


The Arrangement

by notionally



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Bickering, Chaebol Wonho, Commoner Changkyun, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19705765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notionally/pseuds/notionally
Summary: “Hoseok,” she begins, “your grandfather left you a very generous inheritance.”That’s not a surprise. Hoseok’s the oldest grandchild, and the only one born to a son. It makes sense that he should have the lion’s share. But that’s not all, judging by the way his grandmother is looking at him.“There is, however, a condition attached to it.”(In which Hoseok has to agree to an arranged marriage if he doesn't want to get cut-off from the family fortune. And Changkyun is just an ordinary guy who never, ever, ever, asked for any of this to happen to him.)





	1. The Inheritance

Hoseok pushes open the car door, steps out to the blinding flash of paparazzi cameras. He squints against the disorienting light, holds one hand out in front of his face to shield his eyes. 

“Shin Hoseok!” calls out the amorphous mass of reporters crowding around him, all clamouring to get a good picture or maybe even a punchy quote. The security guards push back against the surging crowd. “Shin Hoseok! What do you expect from today’s reading of your grandfather’s will?”

 _I expect to be told how much of an inheritance I’m getting, and then I expect to leave,_ Hoseok thinks. His grandfather’s been dead almost four months now. He doesn’t understand why it’s taken the lawyers this long to sort out the will.

“Hey, you,” Hoseok says. The valet who’s been hovering around him lets out a squeak of surprise. Hoseok rolls his eyes and tosses the keys to his car to the trembling young man. “Take care of her,” he says sharply, nodding towards his car, even though he doesn’t really care, at this point. The inheritance should be more than enough to buy him a fleet of new Lamborghinis.

“Do you really think you are the right person to take over Shin Enterprises!” shouts one plucky reporter, darting beneath a security guard’s arm and grabbing onto his sleeve.

Hoseok snatches his arm away. “What kind of question is that?” he snaps. “I’m the heir to Shin Enterprises. Of course I’m the right person.”

“Master Shin,” greets Secretary Moon, rushing forward and getting in between Hoseok and the reporter. He bows deeply and holds the doors to the building open for Hoseok, who gives the reporter once last withering glare before striding into the Shin Enterprises building. “You’re late.”

Hoseok shrugs, heading straight for the lifts that he knows will take him directly to the top floor. The receptionists in the lobby all bow as he passes. “This meeting is too early,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Grandmother knew I was out with Mingyu and the boys last night.”

“Yes,” Secretary Moon says, grimacing, “the Chairwoman wasn’t happy about that.”

That comes as no surprise to Hoseok. His grandmother has always taken issue with what she calls his ‘wild, partying ways’. Never mind that it’s nothing out of the ordinary for a young man in his twenties. Never mind that the only reason why she objects so strongly is because she was married and pregnant with Hoseok’s dad, when she was his age.

“Is Minhyuk here?” Hoseok asks, changing the topic. He’s going to get enough stick from his grandmother when he arrives, no need to hash out the same stuff with Secretary Moon beforehand.

Secretary Moon nods. “He got here half an hour ago.”

“And mom? Aunt Youngmi?”

“Madam Kyunghee and Madam Youngmi are both here as well,” Secretary Moon replies. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. 

Hoseok frowns at Secretary Moon’s hesitation. “What is it?” he asks. “Spit it out.”

“I’m sure the lawyers will explain in more detail when you get there,” Secretary Moon says. The lift doors ding open, and he holds them open for Hoseok. “But they’ve gone through most of the will already. There’s just — there’s a bit that requires your special attention.”

“Special attention?” Hoseok gives Secretary Moon a look, but the doors to his grandmother’s office are being thrown open and there’s no time to ask for more detail. Hoseok squares his shoulders, and steps through.

“Ah, Hoseok-ah!” His mother leaps to her feet, crosses the room and places both hands on his forearms. “You’re late! Where have you been?”

Hoseok’s grandmother, sitting like a marble statue at the head of the table, arches one eyebrow at him. “Hungover, I’m guessing,” she says, voice tight.

“Aish, grandmother, don’t be angry,” chirps Minhyuk, placing one placating hand on her arm, “he’s here now, that’s all that matters.”

Hoseok drops into the empty seat next to Minhyuk, gives his cousin a nod in greeting. “So,” he says, hands on his knees, “what we are talking about?”

The lawyer clears her throat. “We had just finished running through the allocations made by your late grandfather in his will,” she says. “We were just about to move on to some — special issues.”

“Great.” Hoseok leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “How much money am I getting?”

“This is actually the subject of the special issue we were about to discuss,” the lawyer replies. She glances over at Hoseok’s grandmother warily, and they exchange a look that Hoseok can’t be bothered trying to decipher. He gives Minhyuk a questioning glance, and his cousin shrugs, as if to say, ‘I don’t know what they’re talking about, either’.

Hoseok’s grandmother clears her throat. “I will explain,” she declares firmly. There’s a steely look in her eyes that Hoseok really, really doesn’t like the look of. 

“Hoseok,” she begins, “your grandfather left you a very generous inheritance.”

That’s not a surprise. Hoseok’s the oldest grandchild, and the only one born to a son. It makes sense that he should have the lion’s share. But that’s not all, judging by the way his grandmother is looking at him.

“There is, however, a condition attached to it.”

Hoseok groans. “What now?” he grumbles. “Does he want me to work my way through all the departments in the company, or something?”

The corners of his grandmother’s lips twitch slightly in a smile. Hoseok narrows his eyes at her warily. If she’s amused, this can’t possibly be anything good.

“Your grandfather had a close childhood friend,” she explains, and Hoseok blinks at what seems like an abrupt change of topic. His mother and aunt look equally confused, but they all just let the old lady continue. Mostly because to interrupt her is a feat too terrifying to imagine. “His friend moved to America when he and your grandfather were around your age. But, before he left, the two of them made a promise.”

“What promise?” Hoseok asks. “And what the hell does this have to do with his will?”

Hoseok's mother tuts under her breath. "Language," she mutters.

“The promise was that they would one day join their families,” Hoseok’s grandmother continues, ignoring her daughter-in-law. “If not by their childrens’ marriage, then by their grand-childrens’.”

Minhyuk’s eyes widen, and he gasps quietly. “No,” he exhales, like he already knows where this is going. But Hoseok still has no idea.

“Your grandfather’s friend has one grandson. We have spent the past few months trying to locate him. His name is Im Changkyun.”

Hoseok’s mother exchanges a worried glance with his aunt. They seem to have caught on to what’s going on as well. Maybe because this concerns him, and Hoseok’s too worried to think straight, but he still can’t figure out what’s going on.

His grandmother smiles serenely at him. “The condition to you receiving your inheritance is — you have to marry Im Changkyun.”

Hoseok freezes as the words sink in. Marry? Some stranger named Im Changkyun? It’s all so ludicrous he has to laugh.

So he does — a loud, barking laugh. He throws his head back, slaps his knee. “Absolutely not,” he says, “abso-fucking-lutely _not.”_ His mother doesn't tell him off for his language this time.

“If you want your inheritance, it’s what you have to do.”

“I’ll find a way out of it,” Hoseok snaps, shoving his chair back and getting to his feet. “This is fucking insane. I’m not doing it.”

Hoseok’s mother stands up as well. “Hoseok-ah,” she says, casting nervous glances between him and his grandmother. “Sit down, we can talk about this.”

“I’m not talking about anything! This, this — this _arrangement_ you’re talking about? It’s inhumane!” He storms across the room, throws the doors open with such force that they slam into the wall. The door handles will probably leave a mark, but Hoseok doesn’t care.

“Hoseok! Come back here!”

Hoseok ignores his mother, just stomps out of the office and stabs fiercely at the button to call the lift. Secretary Moon, who had been waiting outside, looks deeply alarmed by his outburst. “Master Shin!” he calls out, faltering in the doorway, waiting for instructions as to whether he should be stopping Hoseok from leaving. Hoseok doesn’t wait for Secretary Moon to figure out what to do, just steps into the lift when it arrives.

“Let him go,” comes Hoseok’s grandmother’s voice from inside the office. It’s the last thing he hears as the lift doors start to close. “He’ll change his mind.”

Hoseok scoffs. The lift doors shut, and he starts to descend. 

“Change my mind?” He makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat. _As if._

* * *

It’s dark, by the time Changkyun leaves his studio to head home. His stomach, which had been so quiet and patient as he’d worked, now grumbles with hunger. Changkyun considers stopping at the nearby street food market, but decides against it. He’ll just have some instant ramyeon when he’s home. It’s cheaper that way.

He makes the short walk back to his flat in no time at all, hunger gnawing at his insides and speeding up his steps. Kihyun’s going to scold him for not eating, he already knows this. But if he pouts cutely enough, maybe Kihyun will also cook ramyeon for him.

As Changkyun had expected, he’s barely through the door before Kihyun’s popped up in front of him, looking stern.

“What time do you call this, young man?” Kihyun scolds. “I’ve been calling you.”

“Ah, hyung, you know I don’t check my phone in the studio,” Changkyun replies, grinning sheepishly at Kihyun and ducking around him to drop his backpack on the dining room chair. “The music was just flowing, you know?”

Kihyun rolls his eyes, but fondly. “You haven’t had dinner, have you?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for Changkyun to respond. He knows Changkyun far too well. “We saved you some food, come sit down and eat.”

That’s even better than the promise of Kihyun-made ramyeon. Changkyun flings his arms around Kihyun and nuzzles with exaggerated affection into his neck. “You’re the best hyung ever!” he cries out, making Kihyun yelp and squirm away.

Changkyun knows that Kihyun had meant for him to sit at the dining table, but he instead heads for the sofa and flops down on it next to Hyungwon. The television is on, and the ten o’clock news is playing — almost certainly Kihyun’s pick, rather than Hyungwon’s. Not to mention, Hyungwon’s put the news on mute and is lazily scrolling through his phone, not paying any attention.

He does, however, put his phone down when Changkyun sits down next to him. “You should really eat dinner at a normal time,” he says, nudging Changkyun with his shoulder. “If only so Kihyun will stop worrying — he’s going to give himself an ulcer.”

“I’m fine,” Changkyun replies, shrugging. And he is, he really is. His parents had given up everything, used up all of their life’s savings, just to put him through college. They’d even happily let him go to an arts school, study music production. He’s working hard for them, just as much as for himself.

“Both of you will give me an ulcer,” Kihyun says, handing Changkyun a large bowl of pork and kimchi heaped over steaming white rice. He squishes onto the couch next to Hyungwon, and unmutes the television. 

Changkyun beams happily at his bowl of food and tucks in, picking up a piece of meat with his chopsticks first. Kihyun’s cooking is unbeatable, and even microwaved leftovers taste amazing. Much, much better than instant ramyeon.

“Fucking chaebols — how is this news?” Kihyun says suddenly, and Changkyun looks up in surprise. He hadn’t been paying attention to the news, but he does now. There’s a video clip of a young man in a suit, hopping out of a shiny sports car and walking into a glass-fronted building. The caption beneath him reads: _Is the Shin Enterprises heir really the right pick for the job?_

“Who’s that?” Changkyun mumbles around his mouthful of food.

Kihyun puts the television back on mute. “Shin Hoseok,” he replies. “His grandfather was the Chairman, but he passed away a few months ago. Today was the reading of his will, to split up the inheritance.”

Changkyun shovels more food into his mouth, watches the silent clips playing on screen of Shin Hoseok popping a bottle of champagne at what looks like a rooftop pool party, then hurrying through an airport with his head ducked, then leaving a nightclub with his arm around a pretty, pink-haired boy. He doesn’t know much about chaebols and all that stuff, but he knows Shin Enterprises. Everyone does. It’s the biggest company in Korea, a conglomerate that has investments in practically everything that’s worth anything in the country.

Still, he’s inclined to agree with Kihyun — he doesn’t get why this rich kid’s partying lifestyle is news. “Imagine being born that rich, though,” he says instead, grinning at his two roommates. “That would be the life.”

Hyungwon laughs. “And what would you do with all that money?” he asks. “You’d probably just hide out at home and buy some really fancy music equipment and live pretty much the same life as you do now.”

Changkyun wrinkles his nose at Hyungwon, but he can’t deny it. “It would be _really_ fancy music equipment, though,” he says. “And I’d get you a better mixing table, and Ki would get a new camera and all the lenses he could possibly need…”

“Nice daydream, kiddo,” Kihyun interrupts, chuckling, “but last I checked, music producers didn’t make billions of won.”

Changkyun shrugs and pops a piece of kimchi into his mouth. “That’s probably for the best,” he says. “Can you imagine me as a chaebol?” He stands up with his rice bowl in one hand, chopsticks in the other, and does a twirl.

“You’re dropping rice grains everywhere,” Kihyun complains, picking one off his knee where Changkyun had accidentally flicked it from the tip of his chopsticks.

Hyungwon snorts out a laugh. “When’s the last time you even put a suit on?” he asks. “You wore jeans and a sweater to graduation.”

Changkyun sticks his tongue out at Hyungwon. “It’s _arts school,_ hyung,” he says petulantly, “and I was expressing myself _artistically.”_

“By following in Yoongi hyung’s footsteps?”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Changkyun drops back down onto the sofa and elbows Hyungwon in the ribs. “Kihyun hyung’s the one with the crush.”

Kihyun, predictably, turns bright red. “I do not have a crush on Yoongi!” he shouts. 

And then Hyungwon’s cackling and recounting a story of the time Kihyun had startled so hard when Yoongi had spoken to him, that he’d dropped an entire tray of food in the middle of the cafeteria, and Kihyun’s threatening to murder Hyungwon in his sleep, and Changkyun just smiles and settles into the sofa. 

He may not have much to his name, but he gets to do what he loves, and he lives with his two best friends in the world. This is his life, and it’s not much, but it’s his, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

* * *

When Hoseok opens the door to his penthouse apartment, Minhyuk’s already there, draped across the sofa and watching what looks to be a buddy cop comedy on Hoseok’s flat screen. He sits up, though, upon hearing Hoseok return, and turns the television off.

“I gave you the key to my house for emergencies,” Hoseok says tiredly, even though he knows it’s no use, and Minhyuk will never stop letting himself in unannounced. He shrugs off his coat, chucks it over the back of the sofa, and sits down next to Minhyuk. “What are you doing here?”

Minhyuk blinks his big eyes at Hoseok. “What, your favourite cousin can’t pop round to hang out with you?”

“You’re my only cousin, Min.”

“Irrelevant!” Minhyuk mimes doing a hair flip, then stretches out, flinging his legs onto Hoseok’s lap. “Grandma was really angry after you stormed out yesterday.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Good,” he says. “She wants me to get into an arranged marriage with some random? No thank you.”

“It’s not _her_ will, you know,” Minhyuk points out, and Hoseok knows that, but his grandfather is dead and so his grandmother is the next best person for him to direct his wrath at. Minhyuk sighs, wrinkling up his nose. “Speaking of, though — I came here because I have something to tell you.”

Hoseok makes a face. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbles, “I already know it’s going to be something bad.”

Minhyuk makes no attempt to deny this. “I was speaking to Jooheon today,” he says, unusually subdued for him, and hence extremely unnerving. “He got fired.”

“Fired?” Hoseok frowns. Jooheon’s family owns the largest telecoms company in the country, and even though he's the youngest grandchild and therefore not going to head up the company, he still has no need to work a day in his life. Instead, he's studying to work as a child psychologist, and volunteering at a charity for children with special needs as he does so. Hoseok doesn't understand why a charity would fire a volunteer as dedicated, and skilled, and well-off, as Jooheon.

Unless.

Hoseok gapes at Minhyuk. “She didn’t.”

“She did,” Minhyuk replies, nodding gravely. “The charity was really apologetic, but they said the donation was what they would otherwise raise in a year. It wasn’t something the could refuse.”

“So they agreed to _fire_ him? Isn’t that bribery?”

“Bribery that will help hundreds of children, which is why Jooheon isn’t more mad about it.”

Hoseok lets out a strangled yell. “Well, I’m mad about it! How dare she go for my friends!”

“She knows you,” Minhyuk says, shrugging. “Jooheon wasn’t even going to tell you, which is probably why she told my mom, who then told me.” He quirks a half-smile. “She knows us all too well.”

Hoseok drags one hand through his hair in frustration. “This is fucked up, Min,” he says. “I don’t want to marry a stranger.”

Minhyuk sighs. “I know, and I don’t want you to have to do that either. But — and Jooheon doesn’t know I’m asking you this, he’d be pissed off with me if he did — can’t you do _something_ to appease grandma? At least go talk to her?”

Hoseok glowers at Minhyuk, who doesn’t deserve it, but he’s the only one here. “Oh, I’ll go talk to her alright,” he declares, getting to his feet and snatching his coat up. “Let yourself out when you’re done,” he calls out to Minhyuk as he throws the front door open. “And don’t eat all of my food!”

“Good luck!” shouts Minhyuk, waving brightly at him from the sofa, just as the door slams shut.

* * *

Hoseok breaks just about every speed limit on his way to the family residence, but he doesn’t care. He needs to get to his grandmother before she starts fucking about even more with his friends’ lives. Jooheon, in particular, deserves this the least — which is probably why she’d picked him to start with. 

He flies through the main entrance of the grand mansion, ignoring the flustered greetings of the house staff as he stomps through the foyer, demanding to know where his grandmother is. He’s directed towards the conservatory, so he charges in that direction, already working himself up into a furious frenzy.

“Hoseok!”

His aunt, Minhyuk’s mother, is the first to spot him, looking startled by his unexpected appearance. Or maybe by the murderous look on his face. Possibly both. His mother just looks exhausted.

“I can’t believe you!” Hoseok shouts. “Jooheon’s innocent!”

Hoseok’s aunt turns back in surprise. “Mom,” she says, in a weary voice, “what did you do?”

Hoseok’s grandmother purses her lips. “Don’t be so dramatic, all of you,” she says, as if she wasn’t the one who’d gone and dragged Hoseok’s friends into this. “I just wanted to send my tantrum-throwing grandson a message. And look — it worked. He’s here now.”

“Grandma,” Hoseok says sharply, dropping into one of the free armchairs in the sun-drenched room. “You can’t do this to people. Jooheon doesn’t deserve this.”

His grandmother just tuts at him softly. “I know, dear,” she replies, “and I’ll get him the job back. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“You couldn’t call me?”

“As if you’d pick up my call when you’re angry at me,” his grandmother says, and Hoseok has to admit she’s right. It would take him at least a few days to cool-off. Knowing that his silence means he’s conceding she has a point, she takes a small, delicate sip of her tea. “I know your grandfather’s request is asking a lot of you.”

Hoseok sighs, and leans back into the armchair. “Grandma,” he says, “you can’t possibly want me to give up my life’s happiness for this.”

His grandmother just shakes her head at him, and sets her teacup down on the saucer with a barely audible clink. “Nonsense,” she says, primly. “Look at your grandfather and me. Happily married for decades. Who said arranged marriages can’t work out?”

“That was like, a century ago,” Hoseok says, earning him a smack from his grandmother. He laughs, despite himself, and ducks away. “Grandma, seriously, there has to be some way out of this.”

She levels him with an icy glare, but then gestures at one of the many assistants hovering around her, and goes on to say, “It’s not so much a way out as it is — an opportunity.” 

Hoseok doesn’t even have time to ask what she means, because the assistant reappears almost instantaneously, a thin leather-bound folio in her hands. She presents to Hoseok’s grandmother, who takes it with a grateful nod, and hands it to Hoseok.

“Take a look,” she says, opening the folio in Hoseok’s hands and flipping through the document inside, which Hoseok realises is a copy of his grandfather’s will. “Clause seven is the bit that has to do with you. If you look at clause seven, subsection twelve, under point roman numeral five—”

“Grandma,” Hoseok says, firmly. He closes the folio, sets it down on the coffee table. He knows what she’s doing, trying to confuse him with legalese until he agrees to just about anything. “Just tell me what you’re trying to say.”

His grandmother smiles at him, almost proudly. “One year,” she says. “The full amount of your inheritance will be released to you, as long as you stay married for one year. Of course, you could always stay married for more than one year—”

“Nope!” Hoseok beams at his grandmother. “One year? That sucks, but I could probably do one year, and then what? Get divorced?”

“The one year would be treated as evidence that the marriage is not a sham,” his grandmother says, narrowing her eyes at him. “You would still be expected to treat this as a real marriage. If there is other evidence that suggest you are not, the condition could still be broken. Also, if you stay married for more than a year—”

Hoseok shakes his head vehemently. “I’ll stay married for one year, _to the day,”_ he says, emphasising each syllable. “Where’s the marriage certificate? I’ll sign immediately. Get that clock ticking, you know? No time to waste.”

“The wedding is being planned for three weeks’ time,” his grandmother declares. “Not long after your birthday.”

“The wedding? So you just knew I was going to agree to this?”

His grandmother takes another sip of her tea. “I had a feeling you would come round.”

Hoseok scowls at her. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Now do I get to meet this guy, or is the first time I see him going to be on my wedding night?”

“Of course you’ll meet him,” his grandmother says. “I just need to meet him and convince him to marry you, first.”

“You haven’t even _met him?”_ Hoseok buries his face in his hands. “Then this is all moot, isn’t it? Because why would he agree to marry a stranger, let alone in a few weeks’ time?”

His grandmother just gives him a withering look. “You agreed, didn’t you?” she points out, and Hoseok grimaces, because he supposes she isn’t wrong. 

“You gonna find some friend of his to get fired as well?” Hoseok asks glumly.

His grandmother sets her teacup back down, and smoothes out the folds of her skirt neatly. “You leave that to me,” she says. “You just make sure you’re free for brunch this weekend.”

Hoseok forces a fake smile onto his face. “To meet my future husband?” He claps both hands over his chest in feigned delight. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

* * *

It’s a perfectly ordinary day when Changkyun leaves his studio, this time well before the sun has had time to fully set. He’s going to help Kihyun prepare dinner, he thinks, and then he and Hyungwon can play Overwatch or maybe they can all watch a movie. He’s running through the possibilities for his evening as he pushes open the front door to his flat, and everything perfectly ordinary about his life fizzles up in smoke.

“Uh. You’re back,” Kihyun says, standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. Hyungwon’s sitting at the kitchen counter, looking midway between bored and alarmed, which Changkyun hadn’t realised was possible.

Then his eyes come to rest on the elderly lady sitting on his sofa.

Changkyun blinks once, and then again, just to make sure he’s not dreaming. But the lady doesn’t disappear, and Changkyun doesn’t stop staring. She clears her throat gently, one perfectly manicured hand coming up to cover her mouth as she does so. 

“This — this lady,” Kihyun says, hesitating, “she’s here to see you.”

Changkyun exchanges a look with his roommates. _‘Who is she?’_ he mouths anxiously, but Hyungwon just shrugs at him.

The mystery lady gets to her feet, and walks over to Changkyun. She extends one hand for Changkyun to shake, which he takes, in bewilderment. Her handshake is far firmer than Changkyun would have expected.

“You must be Im Changkyun,” she says, and it’s not a question, nor does she wait for Changkyun to reply. “I must speak with you. In private.” At this, she casts a glance over at Kihyun and Hyungwon.

Kihyun coughs like he’s startled to be looked at, and bows robotically. “Hyungwon and I will go to the shop and get groceries for dinner,” he announces, even though Changkyun knows full well the fridge is fully-stocked. He smiles at Changkyun, tight-lipped. “Call us when you’re done?”

 _Done with what?_ That’s what Changkyun wants to scream, the voice in his head increasing in volume as he starts to panic. Hyungwon places one hand on his shoulder as he passes, gives him a reassuring squeeze and a smile. Changkyun feels his chest relax, if only just slightly.

When his roommates are gone, the elderly lady gestures to the sitting area. Changkyun sidles over nervously, perches on the edge of the armchair. His guest takes her seat on the sofa once more. Changkyun wonders how she’s managing to make him feel like the one who’s a guest in his own home.

“My name is Shin Soonja,” the lady says, once they’re settled, “and I’m the Chairwoman of Shin Enterprises. I would like you to marry my grandson.”

Changkyun blinks at her. He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to speak, but in the entire time he stares mutely at this person who’s claiming to be the head of the largest company in Korea, she doesn’t utter a single word. Just waits, patiently, for him to respond.

When he finally finds the words in his throat, what he says is, “I’m sorry. I thought I heard you say that you would like me to marry your grandson.”

The lady — Shin Soonja, apparently — smiles at him. “You heard correctly, young man,” she says, perfectly calmly, like she had proposed something utterly banal. And not what Changkyun thinks she’s proposing. She goes on to explain something about her late husband, and Changkyun’s late grandfather, and it’s all making absolutely no sense to Changkyun whatsoever.

“So,” she says, at the end of her speech, “will you marry my grandson?”

There’s something to do with said grandson’s inheritance, and a will, and a wedding in three weeks — but Changkyun doesn’t think any of that matters. “You’re describing an arranged marriage,” he says, forming the words slowly. “In this day and age. An arranged marriage.”

“Correct,” Soonja says. “Will you do it?”

Changkyun makes a face — it’s probably rude, in the presence of this rich old lady who feels like she might be the queen, but Changkyun can’t help it. “No, of course I will not,” he cries out. “An arranged marriage! No!”

“You sound exactly like my grandson, you guys would be a great match,” Soonja says, smiling to herself. “But, in any case, I expected that you would say that. So — name your price. What would it take? One million won? One billion?”

“It would take nothing at all, because I won’t do it,” Changkyun replies, fiercely, now that he’s composed himself a little. “I don’t want your money,” he says. “I may be poor, but I will work hard to achieve my goals. I don’t need your handouts.”

Soonja purses her lips and nods thoughtfully. “I thought you might say that — and I must say, I’m impressed, most people your age would jump at the promise of so much money.” A smile crosses her lips, once that makes Changkyun sit up even straighter with something akin to fear. “Of course,” she adds, “you’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you to work hard and earn the money you need to achieve your dreams. But — what about your parents?”

Changkyun feels the colour drain from his face. “Are you — are you threatening my parents?”

This makes Soonja frown, and she looks annoyed for the first time since Changkyun’s met her. “No,” she says, sharply, “of course not. That would be so uncouth. We’re not the mafia.” She tucks a stray strand of her short, snow-white hair behind her ear. “Your mother used to paint, didn’t she? And your father is a scientist?”

Changkyun doesn’t know where this is going, so he just nods, slowly and warily.

“They’ve worked very hard to bring you up, haven’t they? The music program you studied in — that musn’t have been cheap.”

The fact that she knows all of this about him unnerves Changkyun, but no more than the entire encounter already has. He doesn’t say anything, just continues staring, and waiting for the penny to drop.

Soonja smiles at him. “What would you say if I offered to help your mother fulfill her life-long dream of opening an art gallery? And I could also fund your father’s research, so he can actually do the work that he wants to do.”

Changkyun can’t believe this, but she’s actually managed to tempt him. He swallows around the growing lump in his throat, feeling like he can feel his pulse hammering under his skin. “And all I would have to do is to — marry your grandson?”

“And stay married,” Soonja adds, “for as long as you can bear it. At least a year, ideally — so he can get his inheritance.”

“And you want me to do this to help him get his inheritance?”

Soonja hesitates, considering the question. “If he lost the inheritance, it would go to charity, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” she replies. “And we have more than enough money even without it.”

Changkyun cocks his head to the side. “So, why do you need me?”

“Between you and me,” Soonja says, smiling, “Hoseok needs to settle down and start getting ready to take over the company. Stop partying so much, stop sleeping around.” She nods at Changkyun. “I think you might be a good influence on my Hoseok.”

“But — you don’t know anything about me.”

Soonja chuckles lightly. “I know more than you think, young man,” she says. “I knew you wouldn’t even think of agreeing to this for your own benefit, but that you might consider it for your parents.”

Changkyun has to admit she’s right, that he’s actually considering it. He looks down at his hands, twisted in his lap. His parents have given up so much for him. Surely he can do this one thing, for them?

“Don’t make a decision now,” Soonja says suddenly. She stands up, and Changkyun scrambles to his feet as well, taking the business card that she’s presenting to him. “Think about it, discuss it with your friends if you want. But we don’t have much time — will you call me, tomorrow? Whatever you decide.”

Changkyun nods. “Okay,” he says. “I will think about it.”

“Thank you, young man.”

Changkyun walks her over to the front door, though he feels a little more like he’s scuttling after her as she sweeps majestically out of his home. He bows deeply as she steps through the threshold, out into the corridor, looking somehow both utterly out of place and also perfectly at ease.

“Oh, and — Changkyun?” Her words make Changkyun look up in surprise. There’s a warmth in her eyes, Changkyun realises, beneath the steely exterior. She beams at him, like she’s proud of him, even though Changkyun doesn’t know what she could possibly be proud of. Then she nods at him, a gesture of respect. “It was lovely to meet you,” she says, “and I do hope you say yes.”

Once she’s gone, Changkyun steps back into the flat and looks at the business card in his hands. He should call Kihyun and Hyungwon to come back, he thinks. Discuss this madness with them.

But, as he drops back down into the armchair, still staring at the business card, he realises with a start that he already knows. He’s going to say yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is going to be like a korean drama, you have been warned. also for the first time ever I'm posting chapter one without having written anything else, so updates will not be super frequent. I do have the whole thing planned out in fairly extensive detail, though, so that should speed things up. please leave kudos/comments if you liked it, that really encourages me to write more quickly lol
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


	2. The Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoseok and Changkyun meet for the first time, and Grandma drops a bombshell.

Hoseok drums his fingers against the marble tabletop. He picks up his champagne glass, then sets it down again before taking a sip. “You know,” he says to his grandmother, eyes flicking across the restaurant, “maybe I was too quick to agree to this. One year is still a pretty long time.”

His grandmother casts him a look of withering disdain. Her silvery hair is pulled back into a sleek bun. It emphasises the height of her cheekbones and the disapproving arch of her brows. “You are  _ not _ backing out of this,” she says, with severity. “The young man is going to be here soon — don’t you dare even get up out of your seat.”

Hoseok scrunches up his face. “What if I have to pee, grandma?” he whines. “What then?”

“Pee your pants, I don’t care.” His grandmother smirks to herself, takes a sip of her champagne. For such an old lady she’s remarkably petty, Hoseok thinks. 

“I still can’t believe you got this person to agree to this.” 

“Yes, it is remarkably difficult to get anyone to agree to marry you.”

Hoseok juts out his lower lip in a pout. He’s not too put out, because knows his grandmother is only teasing — she just has an acerbic way of going about it. That being said, as much as Hoseok is an eligible bachelor, an arranged marriage is still an arranged marriage. He’s surprised she’s managed to pull this off.

“What did you have to offer them?”

His grandmother turns her lips down slightly, her own more polite version of a shrug. “Nothing that concerns you.”

Hoseok props his elbows onto the table and his chin in his hands. “Aw, come on, grandmama,” he says, “surely you can tell me, this is my future husband we’re talking about, after all.”

His grandmother prods at his arms until he removes his elbows from the table surface. “You can ask your future husband yourself, then,” she says, primly, turning away from him. Then her eyes light up, and she beams at Hoseok. “And here he is, perfect timing!”

Hoseok scowls, because even though he’d agreed to be here, he’s still not happy about it. “Must be some kind of gold-digger,” he mutters to himself. But he’s evidently not subtle enough about it, because his grandmother stomps on his foot under the table, not breaking her wide smile for so much as a second. Hoseok winces, scrambling to his feet as his grandmother does. She’s nodding at a young man being shown across the restaurant by the host. 

Hoseok’s first thought is that his future husband looks nothing like what he’d been expecting.

He’s not quite sure what he had been expecting, to be honest. Probably a stuffy, suited-up man with perfectly coiffed hair — another chaebol like him, he supposes. That’s what arranged marriages in this world are usually like, after all — the merger of two large family businesses via the marriage of their heirs.

But this guy — he’s wearing a black sweater and black skinny jeans, an assortment of silver earrings dangling from his ears. His hair hangs in his eyes, though he takes one hand to his fringe to shove it back off his face as he approaches. Hoseok notices that he has a selection of silver rings on his fingers as well, and that the nails of his index and middle finger are painted black. Weird.

“Changkyun-ssi,” his grandmother greets, warmly, extending her arms in hello. She doesn’t look in the slightest bit perturbed by his attire. “Thank you for joining us for brunch.”

Hoseok nods his head at Changkyun half-heartedly. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “what she said.”

Changkyun gives Hoseok a sideways glance, then smiles at his grandmother. “Thank you for inviting me,” he says, bowing politely. He glances round at the restaurant, at its other patrons. At Hoseok, who may be wearing jeans, but he’s at least paired it with a collared shirt. “I hope I’m not underdressed.”

His voice, Hoseok realises with a start, is far deeper that his appearance would have suggested. He’s slight of stature, though his slimness makes him appear taller than Hoseok thinks he is, but there’s a deep, gravelly quality to his voice that Hoseok has to admit isn’t unappealing.

“No, of course not,” Hoseok’s grandmother says, in response to Changkyun’s question. Even though Hoseok knows for a fact — and from experience — that if he’d turned up in jeans and Nikes like Changkyun has, she’d send him home immediately to change. 

Hoseok eyes Changkyun suspiciously, even as they take their seats and place their orders with the waiter. They’re in a quiet corner of the restaurant (as per his grandmother’s request), and once the waiter leaves, she proceeds to ask Changkyun a machine-gun rapidfire series of questions about himself. Hoseok catches mention of a hometown in Gwangju, something about work as a music producer, but he mostly tunes out the conversation.

Not that it’s difficult to. Changkyun and his grandmother don’t seem concerned about including him at all, so Hoseok just sits back and observes. He can’t figure out what Changkyun’s game is, but one thing’s for sure — Changkyun has little to no interest in Hoseok. He answers all of Hoseok’s grandmother’s questions simply and politely, but doesn’t even spare Hoseok a glance. Which is, in and of itself, odd. Hoseok isn’t used to being so blatantly ignored.

Not that he wants Changkyun’s attention, of course. It’s just unusual.

“I was so pleased when you called me to let me know you’d decided to give this a go,” Hoseok’s grandmother is saying now, eyes twinkling as she smiles at Changkyun. “My grandson can be a handful, but I do hope you can give him a chance.”

Hoseok clears his throat loudly, and pointedly. “Excuse me,” he says, “I’m still here.”

His grandmother gives him a stern look. “Don’t make that sound with your throat,” she scolds. Changkyun suppresses a smirk, and Hoseok glares at him.

“It’s not like we’re really getting married, anyway,” Hoseok grumbles. “You know that, right?”

Hoseok’s grandmother narrows her eyes at him in warning, but he ignores her. 

“I’m only in this for the money,” Hoseok continues, shrugging as he leans back in his seat, “as I’m sure you are.”

“Hoseok,” snaps his grandmother sharply, “don’t be rude.”

Changkyun is looking at Hoseok now, his face unreadable. If Hoseok had to guess, he’d say that Changkyun seems — unsurprised. Like Hoseok is turning out to be exactly what he’d expected. The thought crawls beneath Hoseok’s skin like a parasite. 

“I’m perfectly away of what I’m getting into,” Changkyun says, his voice perfectly even, “you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Good,” shoots back Hoseok hotly. If Changkyun thinks he’s getting a spoilt chaebol, then a spoilt chaebol he’s going to get. “Don’t expect me to be nice to you while we’re married, then — because I’m not.”

His grandmother clicks her tongue at him. “Hoseok,” she hisses, “you’re being a brat.”

Changkyun scoffs lightly. “I’m not expecting anything from you.”

“And all I’m expecting from you,” replies Hoseok, “is for you to stay out of my way. We’ll meet up to sign the marriage papers, then once again to sign the divorce papers, and that’s it.”

“Trust me, that suits me just fine,” Changkyun says, rolling his eyes.

Hoseok snorts. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

At this point, Hoseok’s grandmother clears her throat loudly. Hoseok doesn’t bother pointing out that she’d literally just told him off for doing the same thing. Especially not when she looks so murderous.

“I expect both of you to take this seriously,” she says fiercely, gaze darting between Hoseok and Changkyun. At least Changkyun has the grace to look chagrined. Hoseok just glares at his plate, like it’s the one who’s done him wrong. “And you will be seeing a lot more of each other than that — you will of course be moving in together as soon as possible.”

Changkyun’s eyes widen comically large at this announcement, and Hoseok would have laughed if he wasn’t so horrified himself.

“Grandma, what the fuck?” he almost shouts.

“Watch your language, child,” his grandmother snaps.

Changkyun makes a face. “Madam Shin,” he says, politely, though it’s clear his entire body is tensed up, “is that really necessary?”

Hoseok’s grandmother shakes her head at them, like she’s talking to two silly children. “Of course it’s necessary,” she says, “what kind of married couple doesn’t live together? If the press got wind of that, they’d have a field day.”

“I — I have flatmates.” Changkyun, for once, looks genuinely distressed. His cool facade cracks a little. “I can’t just abandon them.”

“Nonsense, yes you can.” Hoseok grandmother waves one hand in the air dismissively. “I’ll pay your share of the rent, so they don’t have to over-stretch themselves. I’ll cover their shares of the rent too, come to think of it. Why not?”

Hoseok gapes at his grandmother. “Grandma,” he cries out, “you can’t just go around covering rent payments for strangers!”

“Your grandson is right,” Changkyun says, even though it looks like the fact that he’s agreeing with Hoseok is physically repulsive to him. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Hoseok knows his grandmother well enough to know that she’s delighting in this whole situation, in knowing that she has both of them under her thumb. And it frustrates him to think that there’s nothing he can do about it.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Hoseok says abruptly, pushing his chair back and standing up. He’s so sick of this, of being told what to do and how to live his life. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“Hoseok.” His grandmother gives him a pointed look. “Sit down. We can talk about this.”

But Hoseok doesn’t sit down. They all think he’s out of control anyway, so why bother sitting down and trying to have a serious conversation when no one’s even going to listen to him or what he has to say?

“Do what you fucking what, I don’t care.” he says. “Just — don’t pretend you even care what I think.”

“Hoseok,” his grandmother says again. She sounds like she’s going to launch into a tirade. Changkyun blinks up at him with surprised — but not necessarily disdainful — eyes. 

Hoseok doesn’t wait to hear what else his grandmother might have to say. He nods curtly at Changkyun, muttering, “it was nice to meet you,” — he’s not a barbarian, after all, and he still has his manners — before storming through the restaurant and out the front entrance.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Grandma said you walked out of brunch with your future husband.”

Hoseok makes a face. “Can we not call him that? I would rather not be reminded of my impending marriage.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Minhyuk replies, as if Minhyuk isn’t the dramatic one, ninety-nine percent of the time. He rests his arms on the back of the sofa, peers at Hoseok where he’s standing at the kitchen island, assembling a protein shake. “Grandma also said he’d be moving in here next week.”

Jooheon gasps — also with unnecessary dramatics. “He’s moving in with you? And you’re okay with that?”

“Obviously not, but do I have a choice?”

Jooheon shrugs. “Is he at least cute?”

“That is irrelevant,” Hoseok replies curtly, because it is. No matter how cute Changkyun is, that doesn’t change the fact that Hoseok absolutely does not want him moving into the penthouse. He closes the lid on the blender with unnecessary force, and jabs at the power switch to get it going.

“I think that means he’s cute!” Jooheon shouts to Minhyuk, over the loud whirring of the blender. And fine, maybe Changkyun is a little handsome, in that edgy, ‘I listen to a lot of very angsty music’ sort of way. But it’s still irrelevant.

Minhyuk vaults over the back of the sofa, slots himself onto one of the chairs at the kitchen island. He hands his phone over to Jooheon. “I found him on Instagram,” he declares, at his normal volume, which is still perfectly audible over the blender. “He’s cute.”

Hoseok feels a twinge of curiosity, but he suppresses it. Just turns the blender off, and pours the shake into a bottle. He glares at Minhyuk and Jooheon, even though neither of them are looking at him. They both have their heads bowed, tutting excitedly over what Hoseok presumes is Changkyun’s Instagram page.

“He’s your type, hyung,” Minhyuk says, looking up and grinning at Hoseok. Jooheon’s still scrolling through the phone, ‘ooh’-ing and ‘ahh’-ing periodically.

“Looks like he works with music,” Jooheon says.

Hoseok ignores him. “I do not have a type,” he says to Minhyuk, “and even if I did, it would not be  _ him.” _

Minhyuk snatches the phone out of Jooheon’s hand, scrolls back up and taps aggressively at a picture before shoving the phone over to Hoseok. “Look at this selfie,” he says, “he’s pretty.”

Hoseok has to admit — it’s a good picture. Changkyun has his head angled to the side, a smirk playing at his lips. He’s in a black turtleneck and leather jacket, and there’s maybe the slightest hint of eyeshadow in the corners of his eyes. 

“I’m not sure pretty is the right word,” Jooheon says, musingly. “Jimin’s pretty. But this dude — he’s kinda sexy.” Jooheon beams at Hoseok. “Don’t you think he’s sexy, hyung?”

Hoseok coughs loudly. “No!” he shouts. “Of course not!” He chucks Minhyuk’s phone back at him, feels a perverse sense of satisfaction when Minhyuk tumbles out of his seat trying to catch it and stop it from smashing on the marble floor. “You guys aren’t being very sympathetic right now.”

“Oh yes, I’m so sorry you have to live with this really cute guy,” Minhyuk says sarcastically, popping up from where he’d launched himself onto the floor to catch his phone. “Besides, grandma seemed to like him. Maybe this Changkyun guy isn’t so bad.”

“I don’t intend on finding out,” Hoseok replies. “He may have to live here, but that doesn’t mean I need to talk to him.”

Jooheon looks needlessly put out by this statement. “Or,” he suggests, leaning across the kitchen island to blink innocently up at Hoseok, “you guys could realise you’re more alike than you thought, and gradually fall in love.”

Hoseok sticks his tongue out in disgust. “Gross,” he says. “This isn’t a romantic comedy, Honey.”

“Exactly,” Minhyuk pipes up, and Hoseok’s about to express surprise that Minhyuk’s on his side, when his demonic cousin continues, “if anything they’ll just end up having hate-sex once a week on the dining table.”

“Even grosser!” Hoseok shouts, reaching over to smack Minhyuk on the arm. But Minhyuk dances away, and Hoseok’s palm swipes the air. 

“Not inaccurate, though,” Minhyuk points out. “When’s the last time you had a relationship last longer than three months? And no, Jimin doesn’t count.”

Hoseok scowls, partly because he doesn’t appreciate being called out like this  _ in his own home,  _ and partly because of course his friend-with-benefits doesn’t count, he doesn’t need to be told that. “It’s hard to meet someone who likes me for me,” he grumbles. “Everyone thinks I’m this person that I’m not.”

“Because you intentionally pretend to be that person.” Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “If you stopped pretending to be this sexy bad boy all the time, maybe you’d find something real.”

“Are you suggesting I’m not sexy?”

“I’m suggesting you’re a massive softie who has the muscles to crush a man’s head in your bare hands but who doesn’t even have the heart to squash a fly.”

Hoseok pouts at this frighteningly accurate description of his personality. Jooheon just laughs and high-fives Minhyuk, before the two of them launch into an updated version of their secret handshake. Hoseok doesn’t know when the hip-bump was incorporated, nor does he recall that much bum-slapping in earlier iterations.

“I need new friends,” he complains.

Minhyuk just smirks at him. “Well, you’re about to get a new husband.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I’m still not happy about this.”

Kihyun’s carrying another cardboard box of Changkyun’s clothes down to the van they’d rented, to move his things over to Hoseok’s house. He’d grumbled through the entire process of Changkyun breaking the news to them, then through the two days of frantic packing that Changkyun would never have managed alone, and now it looks like he’s planning on grumbling through the entire moving process as well.

“I know, hyung,” Changkyun says, patiently, because he knows Kihyun means well. Not to mention, he’s grateful that Kihyun had been the one to do most of the packing — apparently, Changkyun and Hyungwon’s method of throwing all of Changkyun’s things into the boxes was not up to scratch. “But it’ll be fine. He has a spare bedroom, it’ll just be like living with a new roommate.”

“A new roommate you’re getting married to, who just so happens to be a chaebol who hates you,” Kihyun replies, and Changkyun doesn’t have anything to say to that. Kihyun’s not wrong — Changkyun’s just trying not to think about all the myriad ways this could end with his demise. 

“It would be weird if a newly married couple didn’t live together,” Changkyun says, parroting the same explanations that he knows Kihyun’s fully aware of, because he doesn’t have anything else to say. “Plus, his grandmother is covering all of our rents — that would really help you out, I know it would.”

Kihyun sighs. “It would, but you don’t have to take care of us like that.”

“I know. But I want to. You guys have always taken care of me.”

Kihyun pushes the cardboard box down into the van. “Not as much as we’d like,” he says, giving Changkyun a meaningful glance. He looks like he’s about to say more, but then Hyungwon comes staggering down the stairs behind them, the final box of Changkyun’s belongings in his arms. Changkyun darts forward to help him, before his hyung can keel over. And before Kihyun can launch into a lecture about how Changkyun is “too independent”, and “never lets anyone help him with anything” — those were direct quotes from past lectures on the same topic.

“Thanks, Kkukkung,” Hyungwon says gratefully, the two of them loading the box onto the van together. He smiles down at Changkyun, close-lipped and hesitant, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Changkyun smiles back up at Hyungwon. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what.

Kihyun gives them both a look, then sighs and shakes his head. “I’m going to go start the van,” he says, pointedly, his voice dripping with meaning, before walking around and hopping into the driver’s seat.

Changkyun clears his throat uncomfortably. “Uh,” he says to Hyungwon, “thanks for helping me move.”

“Of course.” Hyungwon’s gaze hasn’t left Changkyun. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You’ll still see me, hyung.”

Hyungwon shrugs. He’s as hard to read as he always is. “I know,” he mumbles. “But it won’t be the same. You’re getting married.”

“It’s not a  _ real  _ marriage,” Changkyun points out, quickly. He rubs at the back of his neck, not quite sure what to do with his hands. “And it’s only for a year.”

“A lot can happen in a year.”

Changkyun shakes his head. “Nothing’s going to change,” he says, firmly. “You and me, hyung. It’ll always be you and me. A team.”

This, at least, draws a small smile from Hyungwon. He reaches out, one hand grazing the skin along the side of Changkyun’s elbow. It trails down Changkyun’s arm, his touch so light and barely there, until he can interlock their fingers. Changkyun feels his breath hitch. Something crackles in the air between them.

“I will always be on your team, Changkyun-ah.”

Changkyun nods. He knows Hyungwon will. Hyungwon has always been on his team, ever since the two of them had met as children in Gwangju. All through high school, and then them moving to Seoul together to go to arts school, and then them graduating and trying to find their feet in a world that never made things easy. 

Not for the first time, Changkyun wonders what would happen if he just leant in, and pressed his lips against Hyungwon’s. Would Hyungwon kiss him back? Probably. But would it matter? Would it change things between them so irrevocably that they would never be the same again?

And, so, not for the first time, Changkyun chickens out.

He smiles, slides his arms around Hyungwon’s waist, and launches himself in for a hug. His face is pressed up against Hyungwon’s chest. “Thanks, hyung,” he mumbles, words indistinct.

He feels Hyungwon press a kiss against the top of his head. It’s not enough, Changkyun thinks, but — as it always has — it will do. It will have to do.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hoseok stands glumly in the corner of the kitchen, leaning back against the counter and watching as Changkyun and his friends pile cardboard box after cardboard box into his living room. He should probably go help them, he thinks — that’s what his grandmother would want him to do. And he feels bad, not helping out.

But he refuses to be a part of his own punishment, which is how he’s come to see this entire ordeal.

Minhyuk, on the other hand, seems to see no issue with helping out the enemy. He’d come over early that morning, claiming he wanted to be of ‘assistance’, but Hoseok’s pretty sure he’d just wanted to meet Changkyun and find out what he’s like.

Judging by Minhyuk’s excited chattering, and Changkyun’s glazed look of overwhelm, this is going to at least be an interesting combination.

“I hear you do music,” Minhyuk says, slinging an arm around Changkyun’s shoulders. “That sounds interesting! Tell me more.”

Changkyun tenses up, but doesn’t push Minhyuk away. “I produce music,” he mumbles, “for singers, idol groups, rappers. Things like that. Sometimes for video games.”

“Fascinating.” Minhyuk leans in closer to Changkyun. “You’re very good-looking, did you know that?”

The small, angry one of Changkyun’s friends — Kihyun, Hoseok thinks — coughs loudly and steps forward, effectively prying Minhyuk away from Changkyun. “Where should we put these boxes?” he asks, obviously trying to save Changkyun from Minhyuk. 

Hoseok sees the annoyance flicker in Minhyuk’s eyes, before it passes, and Minhyuk’s helping Kihyun move the boxes into the guest bedroom. Which leaves Changkyun with the tall, almost frighteningly-handsome friend. And of course, Hoseok — though he’s just glowering in the corner, and no one is paying him any mind.

“You okay, Kkukkung?” the tall friend — Hyungwon — asks. He runs his hands through Changkyun’s hair, and Hoseok half-expects Changkyun to flinch away, judging by how resistant to Minhyuk’s physical touch he had been. But Changkyun doesn’t. In fact, he sort of leans closer to Hyungwon.

“I’m fine,” Changkyun says. He sounds tired, Hoseok realises. He’s not sure if it’s from the exertion of moving, or from — everything else.

Hyungwon slides his hand down to Changkyun’s neck, thumbs at his earlobe. Hoseok suddenly feels like he’s witnessing a scene that’s not meant for him. His insides feel twisted, but he can’t bring himself to look away. There’s a sense of morbid fascination that draws him in.

Changkyun looks up at Hyungwon. His gaze is soft. Hoseok feels taken aback by the way he looks — young, and vulnerable. He remembers, with a start, that Changkyun is four years younger than him.

Then Minhyuk comes barrelling out of the guest bedroom, Kihyun trailing along behind him, the two of them seemingly arguing about the best way to stack the boxes in the room. Changkyun leaps away from Hyungwon in alarm. Kihyun gives him a knowing look, and, despite the fact that he’d promised himself not to get involved in Changkyun’s life, Hoseok finds himself idly wondering what’s going on.

It doesn’t take much time to move the rest of Changkyun’s things into the bedroom. Hoseok even finally brings himself to help out with some of the heavier boxes, feeling a misplaced swell of pride as he takes a box from the clearly feeble Hyungwon with ease. 

But, once the moving is done, there’s no reason for Kihyun and Hyungwon to stay, so they say their goodbyes — hovering awkwardly in the foyer, like they’re reluctant to leave Changkyun. Hoseok rolls his eyes at the over-protectiveness. He’s not going to murder Changkyun, or anything. (When he says this, Kihyun gives him a dark look, and Hoseok thinks that maybe it’s too soon to be making murder jokes.)

In the end, though, Changkyun’s friends do go, as does Minhyuk, and Hoseok’s left alone with Changkyun. For the first time ever. He shuffles uncomfortably from one foot to the other, not quite sure what to say or how to start saying it.

“Um,” Hoseok ends up saying, feeling a little stupid as he does. Changkyun looks at him oddly. “I would give you the grand tour, but you can already see most of it.” He sweeps one arm in the air, gesturing at the largely open-plan penthouse apartment. 

Changkyun nods. He casts a curious glance at the staircase by the floor-to-ceiling windows. “What’s upstairs?”

“My rooms,” Hoseok says, a little sharply. “Don’t go up there.” Not that he has anything to hide, but it’s the least he can do for himself, maintain some semblance of his own space.

Changkyun makes a face. “Don’t worry, I have no plans to,” he says. “That’s a good point though — we should probably come up with some ground rules.”

Hoseok has to concede that that’s not a bad idea. He leans against the back of the sofa. Changkyun takes a seat at the kitchen island, spins around to face him. 

“First rule,” Changkyun says, “we don’t go into each other’s rooms. I don’t go upstairs, you don’t come down the hallway with my room.”

Hoseok nods. “Second rule — we stay out of each other’s personal lives. You do your thing, I do mine.”

“Third rule, no intimacy or sex,” Changkyun says, and Hoseok has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. As if either of them want that. Then Changkyun hesitates, and adds, “I’m fine with minimal PDA if it’s needed — in public.”

To sell the marriage to the press, Hoseok thinks. His grandmother wants it to look like he’s settled down, after all. Hoseok doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t mind, so he shrugs. “Fine,” he agrees, “anything else?”

“We stay married for one year only.”

Now Hoseok does actually roll his eyes. “Obviously.”

Changkyun shrugs. “Just getting everything out in the open.”

“Hmm.” Hoseok folds his arms across his chest. “Speaking of which — is something going on with you and Hyungwon?”

This makes Changkyun’s eyes widen in surprise, and Hoseok think that maybe he even sees the hint of a faint pink blush tingeing Changkyun’s cheeks. “No,” Changkyun says, forcefully. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”

“You guys looked pretty cosy earlier.”

Changkyun shakes his head firmly. “There’s nothing going on,” he grits out, and Hoseok can tell that he’s lying, but he knows better than to push it.

“Whatever,” he says, lightly. “But if there was, that would be fine too. We’re not actually married. Just keep it discreet, and out of the press.”

Changkyun exhales evenly, eyeing Hoseok like he’s trying to figure him out. “Okay,” he says, eventually. “Same goes for you.”

Hoseok nods. “I know this is kind of a shitty situation, but we’re both getting something out of it,” he says. “Let’s just — treat it like we’re working together, for the next year. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Changkyun replies, “okay.” Then he sticks out his hand, and Hoseok stares at it for a second before he understands, that Changkyun wants to shake on it. So he grasps Changkyun’s hand, gives it a firm shake. Changkyun’s grip is strong, and confident. It surprises Hoseok slightly. 

It’s not until they’ve both retreated to their respective rooms that Hoseok realises — that’s the first time either of them have touched each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: The Dinner
> 
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	3. The Dinner

Hoseok stares at the text message from his grandmother. Just one line of text, in formal language:  _ Bring Changkyun over for dinner tomorrow night. _

It’s been three days since Changkyun moved in, and Hoseok doesn’t think they’ve spoken more than five sentences to each other. It helps that Changkyun doesn’t get up early, and tends to leave the house while Hoseok’s already at the gym. He then stays out all day, and Hoseok goes to bed before he returns. He thinks he hears Changkyun returning home one night, though, and cracks one eye open to see that the display on his alarm clock reads 1:57AM.

Point being — Hoseok isn’t sure when or how to even catch Changkyun, let alone bring up the prospect of dinner with his family. He ends up skipping out on the gym that morning, choosing to sit in the living room scrolling through his phone until Changkyun wakes up.

Which Changkyun finally does, at half past ten, slouching out of his bedroom in an oversized hoodie and black track pants. He’s rubbing at his eyes with one hand, suppressing a yawn as he shuffles over to the kitchen. His hair is fluffy from sleep, sticking up in odd angles, and Hoseok can’t help but admit he looks sort of cute. But everyone looks sort of cute when they’ve just woken up, Hoseok says to himself sternly. Changkyun’s not special.

“Good morning,” Hoseok greets loudly from his spot on the sofa. Changkyun startles so hard that he almost drops the box of cereal he’s holding, has to fumble to catch it. 

_ “Fuck,”  _ Changkyun hisses in surprise, the curse word sounding even more aggressive in his deep voice, still thick with sleep. He clutches one hand to his chest. “You scared me.”

Hoseok shoots Changkyun a sheepish, half-hearted smile. As amusing as Changkyun’s surprise had been, Hoseok hadn’t intended to scare him. “Sorry,” he offers feebly.

Changkyun gives Hoseok a weird look. “Why are you here?” he asks. He collects a bowl from the cupboard, start pouring the cereal into it. It’s almost like they’re just roommates, going about a perfectly ordinary routine. Hoseok’s never had a roommate before.

“I live here.”

Changkyun scoffs. “I know that,” he says. “I mean, you’re usually out by this time.”

“Ah, yeah, I go to the gym in the mornings,” Hoseok says, by way of explanation, even though Changkyun hadn’t quite asked for that information. Mostly because he’s trying to delay the inevitable — he still doesn’t want to ask Changkyun to go to his family home for dinner.

“Gym,” Changkyun repeats. “Right.” His eyes flick over Hoseok’s body, and for a moment Hoseok feels his ears heat up with the attention. Which is stupid, because half of the reason why he works out so hard is  _ for  _ the attention. But it’s weird, coming from Changkyun, the man who’s simultaneously a stranger and also his soon-to-be husband.

So Hoseok swerves the topic of conversation away. “Are you free tomorrow night?” he asks, then internally kicks himself because now it sounds like he’s asking Changkyun for a date. “I mean — my grandmother wants us to go over to the family home for dinner.”

Changkyun raises an eyebrow. “I’m usually working in my studio in the evenings,” he says, “but I can go earlier tomorrow, finish up in time for dinner.”

“Your music studio?” Hoseok asks, before he can stop himself. Before he remembers that he’s not supposed to ask questions about Changkyun’s personal life.

But Changkyun takes it in his stride. “Yeah, it’s near where I used to live,” he explains. 

“Why didn’t you just work at home?” Hoseok knows a few music producers, and most of them just have a dedicated studio set up where they live. It seems like a lot of effort to have to leave the house, and what if inspiration strikes when you’re at home? Hoseok may not be a musician, but he understands the desire to have your creative space near you.

Changkyun, however, just gives him a withering stare. “My old flat was too small for all my equipment,” he says, flatly. “Not all of us live in massive penthouses.”

Hoseok bristles. “Do you just think I’m some spoilt rich kid?”

“Are you not?”

Hoseok doesn’t know how to answer that question. So he just scowls at Changkyun instead. “Are you in for dinner tomorrow night, or not?”

Some of his aggression must creep into his tone, because Changkyun flinches in mild surprise. The corners of his lips are turned down in displeasure. “Do you even want me to go?”

“Obviously not,” snaps Hoseok. “But my grandmother does, and we’re both apparently nothing more than her puppets.”

Changkyun’s eyes narrow. “Fine,” he says. “It’s all part of the deal, right?”

“Right.” Hoseok’s had enough of this now. He snatches his keys off the side table by the front door and his jacket off the coat rack. “We’ll leave at seven tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

“Of course,” comes Changkyun’s curt response. Then he smirks. “See you tomorrow, hubby.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond, just yanks the front door open and stomps out. It’s barely been a week since this whole nightmare began. He’s not sure he’s going to be able to last a year.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hoseok’s in his bedroom getting changed for dinner, when he hears someone calling out for him from downstairs. He pokes his head out of his room, peers over the banister, to see Changkyun standing in the living room, looking up at him sheepishly.

“Hoseok-ssi,” Changkyun says, and it already sounds like an apology. “Sorry to bother you.”

“What is it?” Hoseok wants to be annoyed, because what happened to not getting in each other’s way, but Changkyun looks so befuddled that he’s at the very least intrigued.

Changkyun scrunches up his nose. "I don't—" he starts, then hesitates. "I'm not sure what to wear." 

"What? Wear whatever you want." Hoseok feels a surge of annoyance. It's not like he's bringing a boyfriend back to meet his family, after all. Why should it matter what Changkyun wears?

A look of frustration flickers across Changkyun's face. "No," he says, forcefully, as Hoseok's about to retreat back into his bedroom. Hoseok freezes, looks down at Changkyun again. There's a grim determination in the set of his jaw. "I mean — how formal is this dinner meant to be?"

Hoseok realises, a little belatedly, that Changkyun has obviously never been to a family dinner of this type before. Nor has Hoseok has been to  _ normal _ family dinners, but somehow he suspects that they're not quite the same. Guilt tugs in his gut for snapping at Changkyun.

"There’s no need for a suit, if that’s what you’re asking," Hoseok says lightly, hoping it's clear he's teasing. Changkyun cracks a half-smile, like he thinks Hoseok is trying to be friendly, but isn't quite sure. "Honestly — anything is fine."

"Okay," Changkyun replies. But he still doesn't look settled. 

"I'm just wearing jeans and a t-shirt," Hoseok adds. He gestures to himself. "And maybe a jacket. That's it."

Changkyun nods to himself. "Okay," he says again, but this time he seems to mean it. "Thank you, Hoseok-ssi."

It's a little strange, being addressed so formally by someone he's going to be married to in two weeks' time, but Hoseok doesn't mention it. He heads back into his room, and Changkyun into his own, and twenty minutes later they're sitting side by side in Hoseok's car, not talking. Hoseok's eyes flick over to Changkyun as they hit a patch of traffic, can see him twisting his hands in his lap.

"You nervous?" 

Changkyun grimaces. "No," he says, blatantly lying. He'd ended up picking a slightly fuzzy jumper with light blue jeans. It makes him look soft, and young. Hoseok thinks back to what Minhyuk had said.

_ He's your type. _

Hoseok silences the annoying Minhyuk-voice in his head, drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "Don't worry," he says, "grandma already loves you. And so does Minhyuk. You'll be fine."

"I'm not worried," shoots back Changkyun, a little defensively, but his fingers stop twisting together in his lap. He glances out the window at the Han River. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle, as if he and Hoseok are just two friends, having an ordinary conversation. "I'm surprised you drive yourself around," he says, "I assumed you'd have a driver."

Maybe it's the stillness of being in a car together, shut off from the rest of the world. Hoseok doesn't feel the need to wall himself off as securely. "I like the freedom," he says. Then laughs lightly at the crawling traffic outside the window. "At least, I like it when traffic isn't shit."

This draws an unexpected chuckle from Changkyun. His laugh is sharp, like the rest of him, but also oddly unrestrained. Hoseok's eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Freedom," Changkyun repeats. Hoseok can see a smile playing on his lips. "I get that." 

Hoseok hums in contemplative reply. They don't speak for the rest of the journey.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hoseok was right, that Changkyun didn't have anything to worry about. He's a little quiet, but in that polite, reserved way that has older people falling over themselves to heap praises on him. Hoseok's family is no exception. 

It makes Hoseok feel a little bitter, in a way. He'd been half hoping that his family would find Changkyun unbearable, maybe then they'd at least appreciate how unfair this whole arrangement is to Hoseok. But, no — instead his mother is piling more food on Changkyun's plate, saying he's too skinny and needs to eat more, while his aunt coos about how handsome he is. It really doesn't help that Minhyuk, sitting across the table from Hoseok, is beaming in unveiled delight and agreeing enthusiastically with every compliment that's lavished upon Changkyun.

But it's also not a massive surprise. Hoseok's not been able to come up with any particularly strong reason to hate Changkyun, and it's definitely not for want of trying. So he just watches grumpily as Changkyun laughs politely at all the bad jokes made, and answers all the questions asked.

"My parents live in Gwangju," he's saying now, in response to Hoseok's aunt. "I was born there, but lived in Boston for a bit. That's where my dad grew up."

"And what do your parents do?" Hoseok's mom asks, as if this is an ordinary meet-the-parents dinner. Hoseok has to bite back a cutting reply, something to the effect of,  _ 'why do we care what his parents do, he's going to be out of our lives in a year'. _ But he doesn't need to say it to know that it won't be well received. So he just shovels a mouthful of rice into his face to silence himself.

"My dad is a scientist," Changkyun says. "And my mom is a schoolteacher. Though she's also an artist — it's her dream to run an art gallery." He looks at Hoseok’s grandmother as he says this, and she nods at him. Hoseok doesn’t quite know what it means, and he’s in half a mind to question it, when his aunt claps her hands together in delight.

“Our Hoseokie likes to paint too, doesn’t he!” she exclaims, grinning at Hoseok. “You’ll have so much to talk about when you meet Changkyun-ssi’s parents.”

“Meet his parents—” Hoseok doesn’t see why he needs to ever meet Changkyun’s parents. He glances at Changkyun, fidgeting next to him. Changkyun looks just as displeased by this suggestion as Hoseok feels.

“Will your parents be coming to the wedding?” Hoseok’s grandmother asks, turning to Changkyun and slicing through the awkwardness like she hasn’t even noticed it.

Changkyun hesitates. “I don’t — I don’t know,” he replies. “I haven’t told them.”

“Hmm.” Hoseok’s grandmother looks unsurprised. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want them to be there,” she says, voice kind, but firm. “But it would look very weird to the outside world if they did not attend.”

Anger bubbles up inside Hoseok. To push this marriage on them is one thing, but to force Changkyun to drag his parents into the charade — it seems a little cruel, to say the least. Hoseok may not like Changkyun, but in this situation he feels like the two of them are on the same side.

“Grandma,” Hoseok says, sharply, “don’t force him to invite his parents. We can make up an excuse for why they’re not there. It’s fine.”

Hoseok’s grandmother’s lips purse into a thin line. “I’m not forcing anyone to do anything.”

“You have a funny way of asking, then.”

“Shin Hoseok—”

“It’s okay,” Changkyun pipes up suddenly, interrupting the quickly escalating tension between Hoseok and his grandmother. “I’ll think about asking them.”

Hoseok loves the old lady, he really does, and on most days he’s the classic doting grandson. But she’s stubborn, and so is he, with the result that they more often than not end up butting heads. Changkyun glances between Hoseok and his grandmother in concern, obviously not used to this dynamic. The other members of the family, on the other hand, are just continuing to eat, as if nothing’s happened. 

Hoseok’s grandmother smiles at Changkyun. She’s easily placated, if nothing else. “You’re a good kid, young man,” she says. “Thank you for making the effort.” Her words are pointed, indirectly a jibe at Hoseok, but Hoseok just ignores it, and lets the conversation move on.

When it does, Changkyun takes a moment to catch Hoseok’s eye. He offers a hesitant smile. “Thank you,” he mouths, soundlessly. Hoseok just nods, ducks his head down, and doesn’t reply.

“Hoseok hyung,” Minhyuk says, changing the topic of conversation in that deft way that he’s a master of, and doing it all with a bright, innocent smile, “isn’t it your birthday next week?”

“You know it is,” Hoseok replies. “You’ve been planning the party for months.”

Minhyuk grins and winks at him. “Oh, yes, of course I have,” he says, like this is a revelation to him. He turns to Changkyun. “Changkyun-ssi, you should definitely attend the party.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at Minhyuk. “What?”

But it’s too late. Hoseok’s grandmother looks absolutely delighted at this suggestion. “What a wonderful idea, Minhyukkie,” she coos fondly, and Minhyuk beams at her. The two of them, in cahoots to make Hoseok’s life miserable. He scowls at them.

“It’ll be a good chance to drop hints to the press about Changkyun as well,” Hoseok’s mother adds. “I know we’re running the ‘small wedding’ angle, but it’s good to have it come not completely out of the blue. Makes it more realistic.”

Hoseok’s grandmother nods. “Splendid. You’ll take care of the press, then, Kyunghee?"

The only person who looks less than enthused by this is Changkyun. He furrows his brows at Minhyuk. “What’s this party going to be like?”

“It’s just at a club, I’ve booked out the whole place, it’ll be so much fun,” Minhyuk replies, grinning in excitement. “You should bring your friends, too. The tall, pretty one, and the short, angry one.”

Changkyun suppresses a snicker at this, presumably because of Minhyuk’s — not inaccurate — description of his friends. He still looks hesitant, but he shrugs, casting a sideways glance at Hoseok. “Yeah,” he says, “sure. I’ll ask them.”

“I do hope Jimin’s not on the guest list,” Hoseok’s grandmother says, without warning. Hoseok groans exaggeratedly, but doesn’t otherwise respond.

“Jimin’s nice, grandma,” Minhyuk assures her. “Honestly, he’s the sweetest.”

Hoseok’s grandmother’s lips twist in displeasure. “I do not doubt that,” she says, “but is it not time our Hoseok-ah stopped  _ sleeping around _ with these boys, no matter how sweet they are?” She says the phrase ‘sleeping around’ like it’s something bitter in her mouth.

Changkyun glances at Minhyuk uncertainly. “Who’s Jimin?” he asks in a whisper across the table. But a whisper that is, unfortunately, loud enough for Hoseok’s grandmother to catch, and she tuts loudly.

“Just Hoseok’s little boyfriend,” she says, not sounding in the least happy about it.

Hoseok rolls his eyes back in his head. “Jimin is  _ not _ my boyfriend.”

“Oh yes, you have far too many boys for any one of them to be your boyfriend.”

Changkyun snorts a laugh into his food as Hoseok’s grandmother says this. Hoseok shoots him a deathly glare, which Changkyun notices, but it just makes him look like he wants to laugh even more.

Hoseok’s grandmother smirks at them. “But at least you’ll have a husband now,” she declares, matter-of-factly. Changkyun’s eyes widen in surprise, and Hoseok relishes in the way he chokes on his mouthful of rice.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Changkyun still can’t believe he survived an entire family dinner with the modern-day equivalent of Korean royalty. His heart had been stuck in his throat all day, so much so that he’d even forced himself to swallow his pride and ask Hoseok for tips on the dress code. And when they’d been waved through the gates by the security guards, and pulled up in front of the biggest house Changkyun has ever seen in his life, he thought he might pass out from sheer nerves.

But he’d managed not to fall to pieces, somehow, trailing after Hoseok, who strode with authority across the marble floors of the foyer. Changkyun barely remembers anything about the house except the opulent, gilded banisters lining the staircases, and far too many chandeliers. All he could do was nod feebly at the various members of staff who bowed deeply as they passed.

The dinner was pleasant enough, but Changkyun had still been on guard for most of it, and it’s actually a relief to step through the doors back into Hoseok’s penthouse. He collapses onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh, head lolling back and eyes falling shut in exhaustion.

Then Hoseok laughs, a bright, tinkling chuckle, and Changkyun’s eyes whip open. He stares at Hoseok, who looks just as surprised to have been caught laughing.

“You, um — you did well at dinner,” Hoseok says gruffly, in an attempt to cover up his own awkwardness. “I told you everyone would like you.”

Changkyun smiles. “Minhyuk-ssi was by far the most effusive.”

This draws another laugh from Hoseok, who doesn’t head straight into his room, like Changkyun was expecting, and instead drops into the armchair next to Changkyun. “Minhyuk is a lot to handle on a good day,” he says, leaning back and closing his eyes. “That was him being subdued, tonight.”

They’d had a couple glasses of wine with dinner, and Changkyun feels warm and happily tipsy. He can almost forget that he’s embroiled in some nonsense chaebol drama. Hoseok is a little different, too. He’s by no means friendly, or warm, to Changkyun, but he’s at least civil — certainly far less prickly than he had been on their first meeting. And he’s softer round the edges around his family. They may not be friends, but Changkyun’s at least starting to have some hope that they'll be able to get through this year together until they can go their separate ways.

“You know,” Changkyun says, offering a metaphorical olive branch, “if you don’t want me to go to your birthday party, I won’t.”

Hoseok blinks his eyes open. “No,” he mumbles, “that’s okay, you can come to the party.”

“It’s your birthday,” Changkyun presses, “you shouldn’t have to spend it with people you don’t want to spend it with.”

A perplexed sort of look crosses Hoseok’s face, and Changkyun thinks for a moment that he’s upset him. But Hoseok just shakes his head. “Minhyuk’s inviting half the city to the party, it’s not like I  _ want _ to spend my birthday with all of them,” Hoseok says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Hoseok smiles, and his eyes fold into crescents. It makes him look so much softer than he usually does, knocks some of that bad boy mystery off and replaces it with something more innocent, more open. “It’ll be fun, really. I’d like you to come.”

Changkyun returns the smile as best he can, still feeling fumbling and awkward in Hoseok’s presence. Hoseok’s a startlingly good-looking man, after all, not to mention extremely well-built. Changkyun would have to be blind not to notice that. Added to the fact that he’s going to be married to Hoseok soon, and to the fact that Hoseok had seemed to hate him, it was no surprise that Changkyun was finding it difficult to interact with Hoseok.

“Okay then,” Changkyun manages to string together, “I’ll be there.”

But then he remembers something that had come up at dinner, and it makes him think again.

“And — Jimin-ssi?” he asks, carefully, watching for Hoseok’s response. “He’ll be there too?”

Hoseok’s jaw tightens, ever so slightly, but when he responds, his voice is even. “Jimin will probably be there, yeah,” he says. Then sighs, rubs one hand over his face. “Don’t listen to my grandma — Jimin is definitely not my boyfriend.”

“I wasn’t saying that he was,” says Changkyun quickly. “Even though it’s obviously fine, if he is. I was just wondering if he’d be okay seeing your, I don’t know — fiance?”

Hoseok pauses, then grimaces. “I hadn’t really thought about that,” he mutters. “I should probably warn Jimin about you before the party. You don’t mind if I tell Jimin the whole story, do you?”

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind — you sure it’s safe?”

“Jimin’s trustworthy, and discreet,” Hoseok replies. “I wouldn’t have kept sleeping with him all these years otherwise.”

_Years._ _That’s a pretty long time,_ Changkyun thinks. But it genuinely doesn’t sound like there’s anything going on between Hoseok and Jimin beyond, what — sex? Changkyun doesn’t really want to know any more.

“Sure, do what you want,” he says, instead, getting to his feet. He stretches and yawns theatrically. “I’m tired, gonna go to bed now.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Hoseok says, standing up. He nods his head a little awkwardly at Changkyun. “Goodnight.”

Changkyun bites down on a smile. “Goodnight, Hoseok-ssi,” he replies, before turning to head down the hallway to his room. 

Then he hears Hoseok call his name, and he freezes, slowly turns back.

"It's weird, us speaking so formally when we're about to be married," Hoseok says, voice nonchalant. He’s looking at the ground, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. "You can call me hyung. If you want."

Changkyun blinks in surprise. For a brief second, he thinks he’s misheard, but then Hoseok’s looking up at him, waiting, and Changkyun realises he hasn’t. 

When he doesn’t say anything, Hoseok’s expression darkens. “It’s just — what if people hearing you speak to me so formally? You’ll blow our cover!”

Changkyun smiles. “Right,” he says, playing along, “our cover.” It’s a weird, tense moment — but there’s also something warm about getting closer to someone you didn’t think would ever want to even speak to you.

“Goodnight, hyung,” Changkyun says. Trying it out for size.

When Hoseok looks up at Changkyun, his eyes are bright. “Sleep well, Changkyun,” he replies. Changkyun thinks his name sounds like honey on Hoseok’s tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: the party
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


	4. The Party

It takes Minhyuk over an hour to decide on an outfit to wear to the party, by which time Hoseok has had enough of his cousin’s relentless energy, and is desperate to just get some alcohol in his system. Thankfully, Jooheon and Hyunwoo are already at the club when Hoseok arrives with Minhyuk in tow, which means that they can deal with Minhyuk for a bit while Hoseok flags down a waiter for a round of drinks.

“Do you think Changkyun and his friends will show up?” Minhyuk asks eagerly, taking the floridly pink drink from the waiter, throwing him a wink as he does so.

“Changkyun said he would,” Hoseok says, though he’s not sure how reliable Changkyun’s promise is. He has no precedent from which to draw any sort of conclusions. Except for the fact that Changkyun’s promised to marry him and has so far not yet bailed, of course.

Minhyuk takes a large sip from his glass, leaning back in the booth, the very picture of nonchalance. “And his friends? Are his friends coming?”

Jooheon gives Minhyuk a sideways glance. “You’re awfully concerned about Changkyun’s friends.”

“You have a crush on one of them, don’t you?” Hoseok asks, realisation dawning. “That’s why you took even longer than usual getting ready!”

Minhyuk aims a kick at Hoseok. “Shut up,” he hisses. “I just think the tiny one is — interesting.”

Jooheon hoots with laughter. “Is this the one you were complaining to me about non-stop yesterday? About how he was  _ so annoying _ when you met him at Hoseok hyung’s place?”

“That’s it, all of you are uninvited from this party, get out.”

“It’s  _ my _ birthday party.”

“Which I planned. Get out!”

Hyunwoo chuckles lowly. “Come on guys, stop teasing Min,” he says calmly. Minhyuk thumps him on the shoulder and cries out, ‘thank you!’ — but that’s before Hyunwoo adds, “It’s difficult being in love, you know.” And then Minhyuk’s right back to demanding all of them be kicked out of the party.

“When is Changkyun arriving, anyway?” Hoseok asks. They’re sitting in the raised VIP section of the club, and have a pretty good view of the rapidly filling dance floor, but the only illumination is coming from strobe lights, and that’s making it hard to see anything.

Minhyuk grins at him, canines flashing. “You looking for your little husband?”

Hoseok ignores Minhyuk’s pointed tone. “I have to be photographed with him, remember?”

Hyunwoo taps Hoseok on the shoulder. “Isn’t that him?” he asks, pointing across the dance floor.

And sure enough, it’s Changkyun, hovering right by the entrance with Kihyun and Hyungwon, looking around uncertainly. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, and Hoseok think he maybe sees the glint of an eyebrow piercing, but he can’t be sure from this distance.

“Stop staring,” Minhyuk teases, winking at Hoseok. Then he’s leaping to his feet before Hoseok has a chance to protest that he absolutely is  _ not  _ staring (even though he was), and leaning over the railing to shout out to Changkyun. “Over here!” Minhyuk yells, waving with his entire body. A few people on the dance floor look up at them. “Go up the stairs there, come join us!”

It’s certainly one way to make sure the press have their attention on Changkyun, though Hoseok doubts that was Minhyuk’s main motivation. No, Minhyuk was almost certainly just trying to mortify Hoseok. And he was succeeding.

Not least because, as Changkyun approaches, Hoseok realises that not only is he wearing a loose, button-up shirt that reveals a vast expanse of neck and collarbone, he’s also wearing leather trousers. And that glint of silver Hoseok had spotted? Definitely an eyebrow piercing.

“Hey,” Changkyun says, nodding hello. His voice is even deeper than Hoseok remembers. Hoseok swallows nervously.

Minhyuk takes care of introductions, which is a relief, because Hoseok feels like his tongue is made of lead. He coughs uncomfortably as Jooheon shifts to let Changkyun sit next to him. The couch they’re on is cosy, and Changkyun’s thigh is pressed up flush against Hoseok’s.

“You look nice,” Minhyuk says to Changkyun, without warning. Hoseok knows exactly what he’s doing, makes a mental note to murder Lee Minhyuk at the earliest oportunity. “Doesn’t he look nice, Hoseokkie hyung?”

“He looks nice,” Hoseok replies through gritted teeth. An errant side-glance tells him that Changkyun is also wearing a smudge of eyeliner on the outer corners of his eyes. Hoseok’s heart leaps into his throat.  _ He’s your type, _ sing-songs the annoying Minhyuk-like voice in his head.

Changkyun glances around, oblivious to Hoseok’s internal turmoil. “Didn’t you say there would be press people here?”

“They’re undercover,” Minhyuk whispers loudly, “so maybe you guys should try to look a little less like mortal enemies.”

That’s it, Hoseok’s definitely putting ‘murder Lee Minhyuk’ at the very top of his priority list. But, unfortunately, Minhyuk isn’t wrong, so Hoseok puts one arm around Changkyun. This is fine, he thinks. No big deal.

Then Changkyun scoots a little closer, tucks himself into Hoseok’s side, and Hoseok’s gut clenches. He can make out the faint scent of Changkyun’s cologne. It’s clean, and sharp.

Jooheon clears his throat theatrically. “Well,” he announces, “this has been sufficiently awkward. Shall we head to the dance floor instead?”

Hoseok almost leaps to his feet in relief. He likes dancing, and he’s good at it. Plus, being buried in a mass of bodies means not having to sit next to Changkyun with his arm around him like they’re a fucking couple or something. Hoseok practically charges down the stairs, leaving Changkyun to follow along with his two friends.

As it turns out, Hoseok was completely wrong to think that dancing would be a better alternative. Because they’re barely two steps onto the dance floor before Minhyuk shoves Changkyun at him, hisses in his ear to ‘make it look realistic’, and then disappears with everyone else in the name of obtaining tequila shots. And now Hoseok’s wishing desperately that he could be back at the couches, instead of here, with Changkyun’s small frame pressed up against him and nowhere to run.

“Sorry,” Changkyun mumbles, “this is a bit awkward, isn’t it?” The music is loud, and Changkyun has to lean up into Hoseok’s ear to be heard, with the result that they’re pressed chest to chest.

“Yeah, no, it’s fine.” Hoseok tries to relax, tries to pretend that Changkyun is just any other person he’s picked up at a club. He lets his hands drop to Changkyun’s hips, smiles down at him. “We’ll just dance for a bit, let the press get their pictures, then we can get out of here.”

Changkyun seems to find this plan acceptable, which is a good thing. But then he’s slinging his arms around Hoseok’s neck, which is most definitely not a good thing. Not for Hoseok’s heart, at least, which is starting to beat out a violent tattoo against his ribcage.

Changkyun says something to him, but Hoseok can’t quite hear it over the music, so he dips his head down. He hopes that someone’s at least getting some good pictures out of his misery.

“This is a good party,” Changkyun half-yells into his ear over the music. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Hoseok knows that, if this were any other situation, he’d be sliding his hands down towards Changkyun’s ass, testing the waters to see if he was interested. But this is absolutely not one of those situations. He digs his fingers a little more firmly into Changkyun’s hips to stop himself. 

But then Changkyun’s tipping his head back, and the purplish light catches his profile in a way that really emphasises the high, elegant slope of his cheekbones, and Hoseok’s heart flips in his chest.

“You, uh, look nice tonight,” he’s saying, before he can stop himself.

Changkyun blinks up at him. He has long lashes, Hoseok thinks. Pretty, feathery, long lashes.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, in that impossibly deep voice of his, “you too.”

They’re not quite dancing, mostly because the dance floor is — ironically — too crowded for any proper dancing. Hoseok’s just sort of moving against Changkyun, eyes determinedly looking anywhere but down at his unexpectedly handsome future-husband. He wonders how long they’ve been out here, whether the press have enough pictures.

He leans down. “Do you want to go get a drink, instead?”

Changkyun nods eagerly. “Yeah, thank god,” he says, and Hoseok suppresses a smile. He takes Changkyun’s hand in his own — all part of the charade — and gently tugs him through the crowd, towards the main bar. There are lots of partygoers jostling for attention from the bartenders, but Hoseok catches the eye of one of them and they come hurrying towards him immediately. It pays to be who he is, sometimes.

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned, please,” Hoseok asks, before turning to Changkyun. “What do you want to drink?” 

“Uh.” Changkyun looks confused. “I don't know much about cocktails—"

Hoseok chuckles. “Okay, what kind of drink do you think you’ll like? I’ll pick one for you.”

Changkyun considers this. “I like Bailey’s,” he offers, his voice lilting at the end like it’s a question.

“Get him an Alexander,” Hoseok says to the bartender, who nods and heads off to prepare their drinks. Probably wondering who this guy Shin Hoseok chatting up is. Maybe the press will get to him and it can all be part of their cover story.

Changkyun smiles at him gratefully, before his eyes dart away. He leans one elbow against the bar, looking out across the dance floor. His jawline is really sharp, Hoseok thinks, and his nose is unusually elegant. He has a nice profile.

Then Changkyun turns back to him, and Hoseok startles slightly from having been caught staring. Thankfully, Changkyun doesn’t mention it. 

“Is today your actual birthday?” he asks, instead.

“Yeah.”

Changkyun nods at him slowly, like he’s considering this information. He has such a languid, comfortable air about him. Hoseok feels himself being drawn into his tides. 

“Happy birthday,” Changkyun says, in a low voice, “hyung.”

The bartender returns with their drinks, saving Hoseok from having to figure out how to respond to that. Changyun inspects the creamy cocktail for a second, before taking a small sip. Hoseok watches him nervously, waiting for his response.

Changkyun’s eyes sparkle when he looks back up at Hoseok. “It’s good!”

Hoseok grins proudly. He does know his alcoholic drinks, after all, and he’s good at recommending them to people. He holds up his glass. “Cheers?”

Changkyun clicks his taller glass against Hoseok’s tumbler. “To — working together,” he offers.

“To working together,” Hoseok repeats. He takes a sip of his drink, eyes locked onto Changkyun over the rim of his glass. He doesn’t look away, and neither does Changkyun.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It doesn’t take long, though, for Hoseok’s many, many friends and acquaintances to spot him. They come swarming over to wish him a happy birthday. Hoseok introduces Changkyun as his 'friend' a couple of times, one hand lingering on the small of Changkyun’s back, just enough to sow the seeds of doubt in people’s minds. And Changkyun tries his best to smile, and join in the conversation, but he’s never been particularly outgoing, and it doesn’t take long for him to feel exhausted.

So he excuses himself — if he leans in a little too close to Hoseok to tell him he’s going to go, it’s because it’s all part of the act — and wanders off around the edge of the dance floor, in search of his own friends. Kihyun is nowhere to be found, but Changkyun spots Hyungwon standing on the upper section of the club, leaning his elbows on the railings. He has a beer bottle in his hand.

Changkyun catches Hyungwon’s eye, and waves. Hyungwon smiles at him, lazy and warm, and inclines his head in an unspoken question.  _ Where’s Hoseok?  _ Changkyun shrugs up at Hyungwon, already weaving his way towards the stairs that will take him to the upper floor.

“Didn’t think I’d see much of you tonight,” Hyungwon says, as Changkyun approaches. He takes a swig from his bottle, throwing his head back, exposing his long, pretty neck.

“Hoseok was talking to his friends,” Changkyun replies, by way of explanation, “I got tired of hanging out with all the chaebols.”

Hyungwon laughs. He slings one arm around Changkyun, leans the other against the railing. The two of them look down at the dance floor. Changkyun can see Hoseok, standing in the middle of a circle of admirers, talking and laughing and looking every bit like the chaebol he is. His dark hair is pushed off his face, and he’s in a black blazer over a white dress shirt that’s been generously unbuttoned to show off his well-built chest. He fingers at one of the small hoop earrings in his ear, one that probably costs as much as Changkyun earns in an entire month. The chunky silver watch sitting on his wrist probably costs what Changkyun earns in a year.

“You’re going to have to get used to this world soon enough.”

Changkyun screws up his face, even though he knows Hyungwon isn’t looking at him. “No thank you,” he mutters, then jerks his head at the bottle in Hyungwon’s hand. “Where did you even get the beer?”

“I asked for it,” Hyungwon replies. “Why? What have you been drinking?”

“Hoseok ordered me a cocktail,” Changkyun says. He feels a twinge of guilt, even though it’s stupid. It’s just a cocktail.

Hyungwon hums thoughtfully. “Did you like it?”

_ The cocktail, or the fact that Hoseok had ordered it for him?  _ But Changkyun knows better than to go there. So he just shrugs instead, and mumbles, “I guess.”

They’re silent, for a bit. It’s easy being with Hyungwon. That’s what comes with over a decade of friendship, Changkyun supposes. He leans into Hyungwon, feels as Hyungwon’s hand on his shoulder tightens its grip slightly.

“How has living with him been?”

“Fine,” Changkyun replies. “I barely see him, to be honest. It’s probably better this way.”

Hyungwon takes another drink of his beet. “I still can’t believe you’re getting married.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

“Changkyun-ah,” Hyungwon murmurs, his voice low and pensive, “do you ever feel like — you’ve waited too long to do something, and then, before you know it, you’re too late?”

Changkyun tenses up. His heart skitters in his chest. He turns slightly, Hyungwon’s arm still around him, to look up at Hyungwon. “Hyung,” he breathes. His skin feels both electric, and numb, at the same time.

Hyungwon looks at him, long and hard, before he finally forces a laugh. “Aish, Kyunnie,” he says, “ignore me. I’m being silly.”

He’s not, not really. Or, if he is, then both of them are. Changkyun purses his lips. He wants to press the issue, but maybe now’s not the time or place. Except that it’s never been the time or place.

He just sighs, reaches one hand up to play with the longer strands of Hyungwon’s hair, curling around the nape of his neck.

“Your hair’s getting long,” he says.

Hyungwon smiles at him. “Yeah, I’m thinking of leaving it a little longer,” he replies. Tilts his head at Changkyun enquiringly. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do. You look good, hyung.” 

Changkyun likes everything about Hyungwon. Always has, always will. He doesn’t say this, and Hyungwon doesn’t ask.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hoseok extricates himself, with difficulty, from the cloud of people trying to wish him well. He doesn't ordinarily mind talking to people, but he has a feeling that most of them are probably just trying to get into his good graces — he’s the heir to Shin Enterprises, after all. That’s what life is like at the top.

He makes up some excuse about needing to speak to his cousin about the party, then sidles away. Minhyuk, Jooheon and Hyunwoo are back at the booth they’d started the evening in, and Hoseok flops down into one of the couches next to Hyunwoo. 

“I need a drink,” he grumbles, and Jooheon hands him his glass. Hoseok takes it gratefully, gulps down the thick, coconutty drink. It’s a little too sweet, even for Hoseok’s taste. He makes a face and hands it back to Jooheon, turning to Minhyuk. “Who are all these people, anyway?”

“Your friends,” Minhyuk says flatly. 

Hoseok raises an eyebrow at him. “I know you know they’re not,” he says. “Some girl latched onto my arm and said we’d promised to grab coffee, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen her before.”

Minhyuk chuckles. “Okay, so maybe grandma had some hand in checking the guest list,” he admits. “She added loads of children from smaller families.”

This makes Hoseok wrinkle his nose in displeasure, though not in surprise. Thankfully, they’re in the VIP area, which means Hoseok is free from the clamouring hands of the social climbing classes for the moment. He waves at a waiter and mouths at him to bring over a whiskey.

“So,” he asks, glancing around, “where’s Changkyun?”

“Shouldn’t you know where your husband is?”

Hoseok shoots Hyunwoo a look.  _ “Future _ husband,” he corrects, as if the distinction matters. “And no, I lost him by the bar. He said he might come find you guys.”

Minhyuk smirks and leans back into the sofa. “He certainly found someone,” he says, jerking his head towards the other side of the club. Hoseok follows his gaze, turns to see Changkyun standing next to Hyungwon, also on the upper floor of the club, but not in the VIP area. Hyungwon has his arm around Changkyun. As they watch, Changkyun looks up at Hyungwon, then reaches up to touch his hair gently.

Hoseok turns back, scowling.

“Looks like your husband has a boyfriend,” Jooheon teases.

“Not my husband.” The waiter re-emerges with Hoseok’s drink. Hoseok takes a big gulp of it. The whiskey burns slightly along the back of his throat, but it slides down smoothly enough. “And Hyungwon’s not his boyfriend.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I asked him.”

“And your arranged marriage husband will  _ always _ tell you the truth about his love life, of course.”

Hoseok glares at Minhyuk. “Even if he is, I don’t care,” he says. “This isn’t real, remember?”

“I do, but do you?” Minhyuk grins at Hoseok. “Because it looks an awful lot like you care.”

“Only because they're being awfully touchy in public,” Hoseok points out. He gets to his feet. “But it doesn’t matter. Have you guys seen Jimin?”

Jooheon nudges Minhyuk, and stage-whispers, “Now  _ he’s  _ going to find  _ his  _ boyfriend.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Minhyuk isn’t the kind of person who can sit still for long, so Hoseok’s barely left before he’s getting up and bidding farewell to Jooheon and Hyunwoo. He considers going for a dance, but the music isn’t that good, then thinks about trying to pick someone up at the bar, but he’s honestly kind of tired and can’t be bothered. In the end, he just orders a gin and tonic, deciding that he’ll have a wander and find some people to mingle with.

That’s when he spots Changkyun’s friend at the other end of the bar. His hair is an ashy, purplish colour that catches the strobe lights and makes him look like he has a multi-coloured halo. His head is turned, and he’s looking out across the dance floor. He has a nice profile, Minhyuk thinks. A strong jawline. Minhyuk takes a big gulp of his drink for confidence, then walks over with purpose.

“Hey,” Minhyuk says, leaning one elbow on the bar. “Can I get you a drink?”

Kihyun looks at Minhyuk out of the side of his eye. “No, thank you,” he replies, curtly, nodding at the half-full glass sitting on the bar next to him.

“When you’re done with this one, then?”

Kihyun turns his attention back to the dance floor, continues sipping at his drink. “I’m alright, thanks.”

Minhyuk is nothing if not persistent. “Why not?” he presses. “What’s the harm?”

At this, Kihyun finally turns to look at Minhyuk properly. “Because I don’t want to owe you anything.”

“You don’t want to owe me anything?” Minhyuk scoffs lightly, propping both of his elbows back on the bar. “It’s just a drink.”

Kihyun cocks one eyebrow at him. “So you weren’t going to ask me to dance, after the drink? Or maybe ask for my number?”

Minhyuk was definitely planning on doing one of those things, but not because he thought Kihyun would  _ owe _ him anything. The fact that Kihyun thinks he’d hold the drink over his head like some sort of bargaining chip rubs Minhyuk the wrong way, and he feels his brows knitting together. But he’s not one to back down from a challenge. He pushes off the bar, straightens up, and shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re really cocky, you know that?”

“What, because I’m not interested, now I’m cocky?” Kihyun laughs, a little derisively. “Are you chaebols just too used to people just throwing themselves at your feet?”

Minhyuk narrows his eyes, but he can feel a smirk threatening to quirk the corners of his lips. His charm and looks are usually enough to turn anyone’s heads, entirely separate from his familial associations. He’s definitely not quite used to being turned down so bluntly. 

“Maybe I am,” he says, “but only because of my striking good looks.”

Kihyun rolls his eyes and scoffs. He seems amused, though, Minhyuk thinks. There’s a little more openness in his body language. He tilts his head at Minhyuk. “Who were you calling cocky, again?”

“Definitely still you.”

And that, at least, makes Kihyun laugh. It’s a short, suppressed one, but it sounds genuine enough. He knocks back the last of his drink, then eyes up Minhyuk. “You don’t ever give up, do you?”

“Never ever.” Minhyuk grins. “Now, how about that drink?”

Kihyun shrugs. He sets his empty glass down on the bar, and turns to leave. “Maybe next time,” he says, as he steps away.

“Are you suggesting there’ll be a next time?” Minhyuk calls out after him.

Kihyun just waves at him without turning back. Minhyuk watches him slip into the crowd. He drums his fingers against the surface of the bar. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hyunwoo had mentioned something about Jimin saying he was going to get a drink, so Hoseok takes his whiskey with him as he wanders around the edge of the club, eyes scanning for a pale pink head of hair.

He doesn’t find it, but he does find Jimin, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows by one side of the club, looking out across the city. 

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Jimin turns in surprise. His eyes light up when he sees Hoseok, and a smile spreads across his face. “Hoseokkie hyung!” he exclaims, flinging his arms around Hoseok’s neck for a hug. Hoseok chuckles and returns the embrace.

“Your hair,” Hoseok says, leaning back to get a better look, “it’s — silver.”

“Yeah, I wanted a change,” Jimin says, fluttering his lashes at Hoseok, then dissolving into giggles. “Do you like it?”

Hoseok ruffles Jimin’s hair, which earns him a smack as Jimin ducks away. “It’s sexy,” he says, winking, “suits you.”

Jimin throws his head back in laughter, elbowing Hoseok in the ribs. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me, Hoseok hyung.”

The first time they’d met, five years ago, had been something like this. Hoseok making the moves on Jimin in a fancy club, and Jimin following him home because Jimin had always had a thing for muscles. Over the years, though the mutual attraction hadn’t faded, a strong friendship had blossomed beneath it. Hoseok would never date Jimin, and vice versa — but that, in a way, made it easier to give each other a call whenever they wanted to get laid. It also meant that Hoseok had kind of forgotten what it was like to want to sleep with someone when you weren’t sure if they wanted to sleep with you.

“I would never waste my precious flirting energy on you, Park Jimin,” Hoseok replies, grinning as Jimin gasps in indignation. 

“Why are you here hanging out with me, anyway?” Jimin asks, sipping at his drink. “I thought you’d be with your new hubby.”

Hoseok had told Jimin about the arranged marriage the day before, texting him the key points and feeling relief when Jimin hadn’t pressed for much detail. He’d meant it more as a ‘just so you know’ — it wouldn’t do if Jimin tried to kiss him in the club, after all. Not that Jimin was one to do that. He mostly just liked to run his hands along Hoseok’s biceps and make suggestive comments while waggling his eyebrows.

“Hubby is with his friends,” Hoseok replies, shrugging. “Or, you know — one friend in particular.”

Jimin’s eyes widen. “Is Hoseok hyung jealous?”

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok replies, a little too quickly. “I can’t even stand the guy, this is just a one year deal and them I’m out.”

Jimin looks unconvinced. “Mmhmm,” he says.

Hoseok ignores the knowing look on Jimin’s face. “And anyway, I wanted to talk to one of my oldest friends.”

“Hmm.” Jimin takes another sip of his drink. “And is one of your oldest friends going to get to meet your betrothed?”

“Why? Do you want to meet him?”

Jimin shrugs. “I guess I’m curious — although, how would you introduce me? Your ex? Or your mistress?” He flashes Hoseok a cheeky grin to rival one of Minhyuk’s.

Hoseok makes a face. “Never mind, you’re never going to meet him.”

“Fine, then you won’t get to meet my boyfriend, either.”

“You have a  _ boyfriend?” _

Jimin looks far too pleased with himself for how he’d dropped this bombshell on Hoseok. “Not technically,” he concedes, “but I’m working on it. He’s my personal trainer — we’re going on what I  _ think  _ is a date next week, but yesterday he mentioned a boyfriend in passing, so now I’m not sure what the situation is.”

Hoseok frowns at this information. He knows Jimin well enough by now to know that he’s soft-hearted. “Be careful, Jimin.”

“Shush,” Jimin replies. “I’m never careful with my heart, you know that.” He looks very proud of this fact, which Hoseok cannot and has never been able to understand. “You should take a leaf from my book, actually.”

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “What, so I can get my heart broken all the time like you?”

Jimin just smiles coyly to himself. Then he glances around, changing the topic pointedly. “So, where is he? Your husband-to-be? Point him out to me.”

Hoseok doesn’t like the smirk playing on Jimin’s lips, but he turns towards where he’d last seen Changkyun. He’s still there, seemingly laughing at something Hyungwon’s said. Jimin follows his gaze.

“Tall one or small one?”

“Small one.”

“He’s cute.”

Hoseok turns away. “Eh,” he grumbles, “he’s okay.”

Jimin bumps into Hoseok’s shoulder with his own. “See,” he says, softly, “this is what I mean. Why are you writing him off before even getting to know him?”

“It’s an arranged marriage, Jimin,” Hoseok points out, because with the way Jimin’s talking, it’s like he’s forgotten.

“So? Some people meet in clubs, some on apps, and some in arranged marriages.”

Hoseok goggles at Jimin. “Are you comparing my arranged marriage to Tinder?”

“Yes, in that you refuse to give either of them a chance.” 

Jimin’s gaze flicks back up to Changkyun, and, despite himself, Hoseok looks up as well. It’s in that moment that Changkyun happens to glance in their direction. Hoseok feels his heart rocket from his chest up into his throat. But only from the alarm at being caught staring, of course.

Changkyun shoots a small smile in his direction. Hoseok turns away quickly without returning it.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “How are people supposed to give you a chance if you don’t let them?”

“Maybe I don’t want people to give me a chance.”

“Yeah.” Jimin knocks back the last of his drink, sets the glass down on a nearby table. “Keep telling yourself that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing as dramatic as I think some of you were hoping for, just a bit of...beneath-the-surface tensions! I didn't tag this slow burn for nothing! (as I say this I realise I didn't actually tag slow burn so um lemme go rectify that...) I've updated the chapter count though, the plan is for 20 chapters but we'll see how I get on. please leave kudos/comments if you're enjoying this!
> 
> next chapter is titled: the confrontation
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


	5. The Confrontation

The first Monday after the party is like any other day. Around mid-morning, Changkyun leaves his house — actually, it’s Hoseok’s house, but that’s not the point — and heads to his studio. He has to take the subway, but there’s a fairly direct line from Hoseok’s neighbourhood to the one where he used to live and work, so it’s not the worst commute ever. He keeps a stash of cup noodles in his studio, which means he doesn’t even need to leave for lunch, and can just work straight through until he’s ready to go home.

He’s finished most of the projects he needs to get done for various clients, and he’s not having a particularly productive day working on his own music, so it’s just before dinnertime that he decides to pack up and call it a day. He locks the door to his studio, troops down the stairs because he can’t be bothered waiting for the lift, and heads down the hallway to the main entrance of the building. 

There’s a fairly sizeable crowd loitering outside, and as Changkyun swipes his keycard to unlock the main door and push it open, he wonders if the students from the nearby university are doing a flash mob or something. Then he steps out into the street, and he realises that the crowd is there for  _ him. _

“Im Changkyun-ssi!” shouts one of the people sitting on the curb outside his building, leaping to his feet and charging at Changkyun. Next to him, a man carrying a large camera over his shoulder shoves it in Changkyun’s face. “Can you comment on your relationship to Shin Hoseok?”

The rest of the crowd have all swarmed forward, some of them shouting questions, others pointing cameras at him, the shutters clicking continuously until it starts to sound like the steady white noise of television static. Changkyun stumbles backwards, blinking furiously and trying to re-orient himself.

“You and the Shin Enterprises heir were spotted at his party over the weekend,” someone else — or maybe the same someone — shouts at him. “Can you confirm if you are dating him?”

“There are rumours that the two of you are going to get married soon — is this true?”

“How long have you and Shin Hoseok been going out?”

“Im Changkyun-ssi, look over here please!”

Changkyun can barely focus on anything over all the noise and jostling. He ducks his head down, trying to shove the cameras out of his face, but the reporters and paparazzi are persistent. There’s no way he’s getting through the crowd. 

So he turns around, fumbling in his back pocket for his keycard, and swipes it to unlock the building’s front door. When it unlocks with a loud buzz, he tugs it open a fraction and slips through. The reporters try to wedge their cameras in, but there must be some laws about trespassing on private property, because none of them actually set foot across the threshold. Changkyun drags the door closed, stares out the glass front at the crowd still clamouring for a glimpse of him.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters to himself, stomping back up the stairs and returning to his studio. His heart is pounding with fear and adrenaline, and he snatches a cold soda out of his mini fridge before flopping back down into his desk chair. He’s pretty sure the reporters aren’t going to give up that easily, but neither does he want to sit in his studio for hours, hoping to outlast them. 

He has no idea what to do, so he does the only thing he can think of — he calls Hyungwon.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Minhyuk is spending the afternoon hanging out in Hoseok’s apartment, because Minhyuk apparently has nothing better to do all day that bother his cousin. He’s on his phone, chattering away idly, as Hoseok attempts to watch a disgustingly sappy romantic comedy despite Minhyuk’s constant interruptions. Minhyuk’s scrolling through SNS when a video catches his eye, auto-playing silently on his feed. It’s nothing remarkable, but it doesn’t take more than a glance for him to realise that the figure in the frame is unmistakably Changkyun.

“Hey, hyung,” Minhyuk says, nudging at Hoseok’s thigh with the toe of his foot, “look at this.”

Hoseok groans. “No, I don’t want to see any more of your weird Internet videos,” he complains. “They’re not funny and I don’t understand them.”

“Shut up, they’re hilarious, but no — look.” Minhyuk sits up, shoves his phone at Hoseok. “Isn’t that Changkyun?”

That catches Hoseok's attention. He takes the phone from Minhyuk, taps on the video to play it. The sound comes on as well, and there’s very clearly someone shouting Changkyun’s name at him, and demanding to know about his relationship with “the heir of Shin Enterprises”. Hoseok grits his teeth, watches as Changkyun gets jostled about, stumbles, and finally darts back into the building he’d come from.

“How did the hell did they find him?”

“Someone must have spotted him, tweeted about it or something, tipped the press off.”

Hoseok exhales sharply. “Is he an idiot? Why would he just go wandering around Seoul? He  _ knows _ the press were at my party.”

“He probably didn’t think it would matter. He’s not used to this, you know.”

Hoseok isn’t listening. He’s already dialled Changkyun’s number on his phone, is tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for Changkyun to pick up. The line rings, and rings, and then there’s the automated message telling Hoseok to leave a message. Hoseok ends the call, glares at his phone like it’s done him wrong. “Why isn’t he picking up?”

“Can you chill? He’s probably just not paying attention to his phone.”

Hoseok tries again, holding his phone up to his ear as he stands up, heads over to the table by the front door to pick up his keys.

Minhyuk scrambles to his feet. “Where are you going?”

“There’s no way he’s going to make it out of there and across the city on his own,” Hoseok replies, “I’m going to go pick him up.”

“Do you even know where his studio is?”

“I know what neighbourhood it’s in, I’ll just drive around — ah!” Hoseok breaks off with a shout as the call connects. “Yah! Where are you?”

Hoseok pauses to let Changkyun reply, then rolls his eyes. “I know you’re at your studio — you’re all over SNS. I mean, where’s your studio?” He pauses again. “Because I’m coming to pick you up.”

Minhyuk watches as Hoseok continues muttering angrily into his phone, then finally hangs after demanding that Changkyun text him the address of his studio. 

“You know,” Minhyuk points out, “if you’re planning on being his knight in shining armour, maybe you shouldn’t yell at him so much.”

Hoseok shrugs his leather jacket on. “I’m not going over there to save him, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” he snaps. “What was he thinking, wandering around the city like that?”

Minhyuk scoffs. “Just say you’re worried about him.”

“Not — worried,” Hoseok grits out. He yanks the door open and charges through without a backwards glance. “Let yourself out!”

The door slams shut behind him. Minhyuk shakes his head.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The crowd of reporters has dissipated slightly, but only slightly, when Hoseok pulls up. He honks his horn aggressively, making the reporters startle and scramble to get out of his way. The car screeches to a stop right outside the building. 

It takes them a moment, but when they realise it’s Hoseok’s car, they swarm. Hoseok shoves the car door open roughly, steps out to a cacophony of noise.

“Shin Hoseok! Are you here to pick Im Changkyun-ssi up?”

“What is your relationship with him?”

“Are you really getting married this month?”

Hoseok ignores them all, used to dealing with the invasive questions and jostling. He stabs aggressively at the intercom to Changkyun’s studio, storms in once the door unlocks. He doesn’t bother with the lifts, just charges up the stairs and down the hallway.

Changkyun opens the door, pokes his head out. “Hoseok hyung,” he says, sounding bewildered, despite the fact that Hoseok had told him he was coming over and he'd presumably had to buzz Hoseok in.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Hoseok stops outside Changyun’s studio. Changkyun blinks at him, then steps aside to let him pass.

That’s when Hoseok realises that Changkyun’s not alone in his studio. Hyungwon is there too, sitting on the sofa and getting to his feet as Hoseok enters.

“What are you doing here?”

Hyungwon raises an eyebrow. “Changkyunnie called me,” he says, matter-of-factly. “The reporters left me alone when I pretended I had no idea what they were talking about.”

Hoseok’s expression sours even more. He turns back to Changkyun. “You took the subway here, didn’t you?” he asks hotly. “Without even a mask? Or a cap?”

“How was I supposed to know this would happen?” Changkyun scowls at him and folds his arms across his chest. His voice is pitched a little whiny. “I’ve been doing the same thing all this while and it’s been fine.”

“You know you were spotted at my party!”

“Yeah, but I’m not  _ famous _ or anything, why the hell would people care?”

“Because you’re marrying  _ me!” _

Changkyun rolls his eyes. “Another reason to wish I wasn’t.”

“Trust me, you’re not the only one.”

Changkyun flops down onto the sofa in a huff. “Did you just come here to shout at me?”

Hoseok exhales forcefully through gritted teeth. “No, I came to drive you back,” he says sharply, “unless you want to fight your way through the swarm of reporters downstairs?”

Changkyun looks up at him, defiance sparking in his gaze. “I don’t need your help.”

“Really? Because it looks to me like you do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Hoseok makes a face, throws his hands up in frustration. “You’re literally trapped in your studio with no way of escaping.”

"Then I'll stay here," Changkyun replies, "Hyungwon hyung will bring me food."

Hoseok is about to make some snappy remark, when Hyungwon sighs heavily. "Changkyun-ah," he says, turning to where Changkyun is sitting petulantly on the sofa. "You should go back with Hoseok-ssi."

Changkyun looks up at Hyungwon, his expression instantly softening. "Hyung," he says, quietly. The two of them exchange a look, one that Hoseok is most certainly not privy to. He tongues at his teeth, tries to ignore the bubbling of frustration in his chest.

"Go on," Hyungwon says again, jerking his head towards Hoseok. "Go home, I'll wait here for a bit and lock up."

With a resigned huff, Changkyun gets to his feet. "Fine," he says, but he's looking at Hyungwon rather than Hoseok. "I'll text you later, okay?"

Hyungwon smiles at Changkyun, the fondness in his eyes plain for all to see. "Yeah," he murmurs, and then Changkyun's stepping forward and pressing himself against Hyungwon for a hug. His arms wrap around Hyungwon's waist, and Hyungwon's arms go around his shoulders, and once again Hoseok feels like he's watching something he's not meant to see.

When Changkyun finally pulls away, he turns to Hoseok. "Come on, then," he grumbles, "let's go."

  
  


* * *

Unsurprisingly, the reporters go into a feeding frenzy when they see Hoseok re-emerge from the building with Changkyun. Hoseok blocks them from Changkyun as best as he can, shuttling Changkyun from the front door of the building to the passenger side of his car. Changkyun keeps his head down, grateful — though he would never admit it — for Hoseok's broad shoulders.

They spend most of the journey back to the penthouse in silence. Changkyun stares out the window as the squat, haphazardly laid-out buildings of his neighbourhood start giving way to the glass- fronted skyscrapers lining the roads in the area where Hoseok lives. He can sense the tension in the air between them, can see how tightly Hoseok is gripping on to the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.

They're waiting at the entrance to the basement carpark of Hoseok's building for the gates to open, when Hoseok starts drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Changkyun gives him a pained look. "Can you not do that?"

This, for some reason, is the thing that finally breaks Hoseok's silence. 

"The paparazzi can be brutal," he says sharply, without prelude. "You're lucky it wasn't that big of a crowd today."

The sensor registers the pass attached to the windshield and the shutters slowly retract. Hoseok steps gently on the accelerator, not once taking his eyes off the road. 

Changkyun makes a face. "That wasn't that big of a crowd?"

"It really wasn't — and they weren't as aggressive as they could have been, either." Hoseok hesitates, and Changkyun sees his jaw clench once, then release. "When my dad died, the reporters were pushing so much to get a picture of us going to the funeral, I fell over and sprained my ankle." 

Changkyun watches Hoseok. His face betrays not the slightest shred of emotion. "I'm sorry about your dad," he says. He'd vaguely known that Hoseok's father had passed away, of course, but it wasn't something they'd ever talked about. 

Hoseok just shrugs, pulling the car into his parking spot with practiced ease. "It's fine, that was ages ago, when I was five."

"You were five when your dad died?" 

"Yeah, and Minhyuk was six when his dad died." Hoseok turns the engine off, steps out of the car. Changkyun does the same, glancing over at Hoseok as the walk to the lifts that will bring them to the top floor of the building. Hoseok looks unperturbed. "It's not a big deal. It was a long time ago."

Changkyun shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. They ride the lift in yet another uncomfortable silence, stepping out into the private lobby to Hoseok's penthouse. Changkyun shuffles nervously from one foot to the other as Hoseok swipes his keycard to unlock the door. There's a tense atmosphere between then that crawls into Changkyun's lungs and settles there like dust.

"Thank you," he blurts out, abruptly, as Hoseok opens the door and steps through. Hoseok startles slightly, turning to blink at him in confusion. Changkyun clears his throat. "I mean — I know I was being a bit of an ass earlier, but. Thank you for coming to pick me up."

Hoseok looks completely taken aback, like he's not sure how to respond to this. "Uh," he starts, haltingly, "you're welcome."

Changkyun follows Hoseok in, shuts the door behind them both. They shift uncomfortably just inside the entrance to the penthouse. Changkyun grimaces. "Do you have to look so alarmed that I said thank you?" he says, trying to keep his tone light, even though he feels anything but. "I'm not a terrible person, you know."

"I know that," Hoseok says, a little hotly, before his shoulders release and he sighs. "I just — thought you hated me."

"I don't  _ hate _ you," Changkyun mumbles, even though if he had been asked, a couple of hours ago, whether he hated Hoseok, his answer might well have been a resounding 'yes'. He scrunches up his face to push his glasses a little higher up his nose. "I just — this whole situation is a lot to get used to."

Hoseok eyes Changkyun curiously, for a long moment. Changkyun feels like he's going to shrivel up under the scrutiny, but then Hoseok just shrugs and turns away, and Changkyun exhales in relief. 

"Have you had dinner?" Hoseok asks, stepping into the kitchen. He starts opening cupboards, taking out a large saucepan. 

Changkyun shakes his head, then realises Hoseok is turned away from him, and quickly says, "No, I haven't."

Hoseok makes a gruff noise of acknowledgement. "I can't cook much — how does ramyeon sound? I'll add eggs."

The non sequitur takes Changkyun aback, and he stumbles over his words. "Uh, sure," he manages. He watches as Hoseok opens a cupboard stacked full with packets of instant ramyeon. "I'm surprised you even eat ramyeon."

Hoseok puts the kettle on the boil, then turns back to Changkyun, one eyebrow quirked. "What, did you think I just ate caviar for every meal?"

Changkyun feels the blush rising to his cheeks. "No—" he protests, "I mean — I don't know—"

"Well, I only have caviar for lunch — dinner is sprinklings of edible gold flakes."

It takes Changkyun a moment to realise Hoseok is joking. He makes a face, sticking his tongue out at Hoseok. "Shut up," he grumbles, "I don't know what you rich people do."

Hoseok chuckles, eyes sparkling with mirth, and Changkyun wonders if this is the first time he's heard Hoseok laugh genuinely in front of him. He perches on one of the seats at the breakfast bar, watching as Hoseok prepares the ramyeon. They don't talk much, but it feels almost comfortable, the silence. When Hoseok asks if Changkyun wants ham or sausage in his ramyeon, Changkyun jokes that surely Hoseok is rich enough to add both, and it feels a little bit like they're friends.

They sit down together at the dining table, slurping up the ramyeon. It's pretty good, Changkyun thinks. Not as good as good as the ramyeon Kihyun makes — that man is a genius at getting the ratio of water to soup base perfect — but the generous servings of both ham and sausage more than make up for it. 

"Are you going to the studio again tomorrow?" 

They're halfway through the meal, when Hoseok drops the unexpected question. Changkyun peers at Hoseok as he slurps up a mouthful of ramyeon. "Yeah, I have to," he replies, "it's my job. I don't have the equipment I need here."

Hoseok hums thoughtfully. For a moment, Changkyun thinks maybe that's the end of the conversation. Then Hoseok speaks again.

"I'll drive you there tomorrow."

Changkyun freezes mid-slurp. "What?"

"You heard me. You'll just be accosted if you take the subway there."

Changkyun rests his chin in the heel of one hand, head tipped enquiringly to one side as he stares at Hoseok, who's pointedly not making eye contact with him. He can feel the smile quirking the corners of his lips. 

"You're worried about me," he says, finally. He stabs his chopsticks in Hoseok's direction. "You. Are worried. About me."

Hoseok scowls at Changkyun. "No," he snaps. "I'm worried that you'll say something you shouldn't to the press."

Changkyun chuckles behind one hand. "You're worried about me," he sing-songs again, "you don't want me to get hurt."

"I'll hurt you right now," Hoseok grumbles, but he doesn't even make a move to kick Changkyun, like he most certainly would if it had been Minhyuk. Then again, Minhyuk barely needs to breathe to earn a kick from Hoseok.

Changkyun ducks his head and takes another slurp of his ramyeon, grinning to himself. "You know," he says, "you're allowed to worry about your husband."

Hoseok rolls his eyes. "You're not my husband."

"Not  _ yet." _

"Thank you for reminding me."

Changkyun sucks his lower lip into his mouth. "The wedding is next week," he says, more to himself than to Hoseok. He'd always known that everything would happen in a hurry, but the time has really seemed to have flown by. He isn't even sure how the wedding planners have managed to pull this off so quickly. Must be good having the Shin family name behind you.

Hoseok makes a murmuring noise of assent. "You worried about it?"

"How can I not be?" Changkyun says immediately, then grimaces. "I mean, no offence."

"Nah, I get it," Hoseok replies. "Me too."

They both go back to their ramyeon. Changkyun picks a piece of ham up with his chopsticks, pops it into his mouth as Hoseok brings his bowl up to his mouth, drinking up the soup. The silence this time doesn't feel so charged with tension. Changkyun chews thoughtfully on his food.

"Hey," he says, finally. Hoseok blinks at him, setting his bowl down. Changkyun glances away, at a spot on the wall behind Hoseok. "I think I'm going to invite my parents to the wedding."

"Yeah?" Hoseok's staring at him. "You don't have to, for grandma — she just—"

"Nah, I want to." Changkyun means it, he thinks. Mostly because it feels wrong doing this without his parents. "I'll tell them the truth, but — it may be a fake marriage, but it's still a real wedding, right?"

Hoseok laughs. It sounds empty. "Yeah," he mumbles, "I guess you're right."

He looks like he's about to say something else, when Changkyun's phone goes off, buzzing with a text message. Changkyun snatches it up off the table, peering at the screen.

"It's Hyungwon hyung," Changkyun says, looking up at Hoseok, somewhat sheepishly, "I forgot to text him to tell him I was home."

"You should do that, then."

Changkyun nods. He looks at his phone in his hand for a moment, then glances back up at Hoseok. "Actually, maybe I'll call him," he says, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. He hesitates, then gestures at the bowls of ramyeon on the table. "Thanks for the food. I can wash up later."

Hoseok just waves him away. "Don't worry about it," he says, "go call Hyungwon."

And so Changkyun leaves, shuffling back into his room as he dials Hyungwon's phone. Hoseok watches him walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! sorry for the long hiatus - I was going through some personal stuff, including a new job (!!) and took a break from fandom for a bit. but I'm back now! updates will be more frequent, though probably not weekly. hope you continue enjoying this story :)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


	6. The Wedding

"You nervous?"

Hoseok smoothes down the lapels of his tuxedo jacket as he inspects himself in the mirror. "No," he says, without looking at Minhyuk, "why would I be? It's just for show."

"It's still a wedding, though," Jooheon says, flopping down onto the sofa next to Minhyuk. Hoseok turns to them, straightening his shirt cuffs. Next to the sofa, Hyunwoo is hunched down by the mini fridge, raiding it for snacks. 

"Hey, can we eat this?" Hyunwoo asks, brandishing a packet of wasabi-coated peanuts over his head.

"Yeah, go ahead," Hoseok says, waving an arm over at Hyunwoo, who rips the packet open gleefully and settles onto the sofa next to Jooheon. They're in one of the suites in the Shin family-owned hotel, where the wedding is being held — it's one of the only venues they had been able to get at such short notice, never mind the fact that it's easily one of the fanciest hotels in Seoul anyway. "How do I look?"

"If you're not nervous, why do you care how you look?" Hyunwoo asks around a mouthful of peas — peas that Hoseok is, essentially, paying for. Hoseok shoots him a glare. So much for gratitude.

"I care because I take pride in my appearance," replies Hoseok huffily. 

Minhyuk grins at him. "You look good, hyung," he says, blinking innocently up at Hoseok. 

But Hoseok knows his cousin too well to accept any compliment at face value. He narrows his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Minhyuk replies breezily, leaning back against Jooheon. His eyes glimmer with mischief. "You know who else looks really good in a tux? Changkyun."

Hyunwoo suppresses a laugh, because despite his reputation for being one of the few perfectly well-behaved chaebols, he's still an incorrigible terror at heart. Hoseok rolls his eyes, flopping into an armchair as dramatically as he can manage.

"Minhyuk hyung is right," Jooheon says, "he looks _expensive."_

Hoseok groans with exaggerated exasperation. "How have all of you seen him already?" The groom and groom aren't allowed to see each other before the wedding, which in Hoseok's opinion is an idiotic traditional to uphold, particular in this case, when they're two guys who aren't even _actually_ getting married. They're not even having a proper ceremony, just signing the papers in a private room before the reception. 

Unfortunately, the rule apparently doesn't apply to groomsmen. Hoseok gives his so-called friends a withering look. "Are you guys fraternising with the enemy now?"

"Since when is your future husband the enemy?" Minhyuk laughs. "You're such a drama queen."

Hyunwoo makes a murmuring noise of agreement. "Haven't you been driving him to work all week?" he asks. "Doesn't seem like the behaviour of enemies to me."

Traitor. Hoseok leans forward and holds out his hand. “Give me those peas, no more snacks from the mini-bar for you.” Hyunwoo ignores him, tipping a handful of peas into his hand and popping them into his mouth all at once.

“Are you going to keep driving him to work?”

Hoseok slumps back into the armchair, giving Jooheon a half-hearted glare. “No. It was only until we could work out a schedule with the driver.”

Jooheon beams at him, cheeks dimpling softly. “Still cute.”

Hoseok is saved from having to think up a witty answer by a knock on the door. It opens a crack, and Hoseok’s mother steps half-way into the room. She smiles at Hoseok, and for a moment it feels like she’s really sending her only son off to be married. Hoseok swallows tightly, adjusting the tie around his neck.

His mother nods at him. “It’s time.”

* * *

The story for the press is that they’re having a private ceremony, followed by a small reception. In reality, the private ceremony is nothing more than Hoseok and Changkyun meeting in a room to sign the papers. Thankfully, Hoseok had persuaded his grandmother that there was no need for the reading of vows or anything painfully awkward like that. 

But there’s still an officiant there who isn’t part of the scheme, which means Hoseok still has to pretend.

“Try to look at least _mildly_ in love,” Minhyuk hisses to him as they pause before the double doors to the room where the ceremony is taking place. 

“The officiant isn’t going to talk to the press if I look a little underwhelmed,” replies Hoseok, but he still tries to school his expression into one of affection, even though he isn’t sure what that’s supposed to look like. He forces a feeble smile onto his face.

Then they’re pushing the doors open, and stepping through. 

The first thing Hoseok notices is that there are more people in the room than he’d expected. His grandmother, mother, and aunt are there — sitting to one side of the room, hands neatly folded in their laps. But on the other side of the room are a middle-aged couple that Hoseok assumes must be Changkyun’s parents. His mother turns her gaze on him as he enters the room. She has kind eyes, Hoseok thinks, but the way she’s studying Hoseok makes him squirm.

He turns towards the front of the room. Kihyun and Hyungwon are there, in simple suits — Kihyun in charcoal grey, and Hyungwon in dark blue. Hyungwon looks even more like a model than he usually does, and the thought prickles at the back of Hoseok’s neck.

Then Hoseok sees Changkyun. He’s getting to his feet, hands smoothing out the front of his suit jacket, eyes cast down. 

Hoseok feels an expected stutter in his chest. He half-stumbles on the carpeted floor, his steps towards the front of the room slowing down. Someone jabs him in the small of his back — probably Minhyuk, Hoseok thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind.

Changkyun raises his gaze to Hoseok, face expressionless. He’s in a tuxedo, as Minhyuk had said, but without a bowtie. This is somehow even worse than Hoseok had expected. The cut of the jacket really accentuates his slender figure, and as Changkyun goes to adjust the cuffs of one sleeve Hoseok feels his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Hey,” Changkyun says, in that low, mumbly voice of his, as Hoseok approaches him. His dark hair is styled back from his face, but a few stray strands hang across his forehead. Hoseok presses his palms into the sides of his thighs. He has an odd urge to brush the stray strands out of Changkyun’s face.

Changkyun quirks the slightest of smiles up at him. “You look nice,” he says, and Hoseok’s pretty sure his heart stops for a second. This feel so much like a real wedding. From the tightening in his chest, to how tongue-tied he’s suddenly gotten. And Changkyun’s apparently a really good actor.

“You look nice too,” Hoseok manages, after what feels like far too long of a pause. Changkyun looks pleased by this response, and Hoseok can’t even process what this means. 

They’re asked to take their seats, and then the officiant is going through the motions, invoking the power of the state, telling them to sign the certificates on the dotted lines. Hoseok inks his name on the page, feeling like he’s walking through a thick fog, like he isn’t really himself.

It’s not until they’re being handed the wedding bands to slip onto each other’s fingers, that the reality of his situation crashes into Hoseok. He freezes for a moment, Changkyun’s hand resting in his own. _He’s doing this. He’s really doing this._

They’re sitting facing each other. Changkyun knocks his knees against Hoseok’s, and it makes Hoseok look up at him.

“It’s okay,” he says, quietly, “it’ll be okay.”

Hoseok forces a smile. He nods, and Changkyun nods back at him. Then he slides the silver band onto Changkyun’s ring finger. It slips on with ease. 

* * *

Most of the guests at the wedding are family friends, various affluent families and their offspring, disappointed not to have been the ones up there next to Hoseok, instead of Changkyun. Hoseok had convinced his mother to hold off sending the invites until just a week before the wedding, in the hope that most of these people wouldn’t be able to make it, but apparently the Shin family name is important enough for people to cancel all their plans just to attend a last-minute wedding.

Hoseok does the rounds over the course of dinner, trailing after his grandmother, smiling and nodding as instructed. Changkyun, by his side, is quiet and withdrawn, and Hoseok realises that as hard as this is for him, it must be harder for Changkyun.

“Grandmother,” Hoseok says tersely, after the fifth table they’ve visited, and the fifth time he’s had to explain that Changkyun is shy, and that no, he’s not from any well-known family, and that yes, they’re very much in love ‘despite Changkyun’s background’, whatever the hell that means. He glances at Changkyun's face. It looks weary. “I think that’s enough for now.”

His grandmother gives him a disapproving sneer. “We haven’t even spoken to the Baeks.”

Hoseok tugs Changkyun towards him. “Tell them the newlyweds wanted some alone time,” he says firmly. Slipping one arm around Changkyun’s waist. Changkyun blinks up at him in surprise, then sort of leans into him. All part of the charade. 

This, maybe, is what appeases his grandmother in the end. Her gaze flicks down to where Hoseok is holding Changkyun. “Fine,” she says, “I’ll greet the other families for now.”

She’s barely finished her sentence, before Hoseok is turning away, pulling Changkyun along with him. He doesn’t remove his hand from where it’s resting against Changkyun’s hip, and Changkyun doesn’t make him. They slip out of one of the glass doors along one wall of the ballroom, stepping onto a stone terrace, with steps leading down into the gardens.

“Thanks,” Changkyun says. He looks up at Hoseok, and Hoseok realises that they’re alarmingly close. He drops his hand from Changkyun’s waist, and steps back.

“It’s fine, I was getting bored too.” 

“Hmm.” Changkyun turns towards the garden, dimly lit by fairy lights strung up across the gravel-strewn paths. “Wanna take a walk?”

So they do. In the glow of the moonlight and the strings of lights overhead, this feels almost like something that it’s not. Hoseok pushes his hands into his pockets. Because it’s chilly. And also to stop himself from doing something stupid.

“So I guess today’s day one.”

Hoseok slows his steps, glances back at Changkyun. He has a very elegant bone structure, Hoseok realises. The warm light catches along the bridge of his nose, the height of his cheekbones.

When Hoseok doesn’t say anything in response, Changkyun huffs out a small laugh. It sounds more like an exhale of breath. “Day one of the one year,” he elaborates. “T minus three hundred and sixty four.”

“Ah.” Hoseok touches the silver wedding band on his ring finger. “I guess you’re right.”

Changkyun looks away from him. He tips his head back, eyes glassy as he gazes at the star-strewn sky. “It feels weird,” he says. “Does this feel weird for you?”

Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to laugh. “Fuck, yeah.” He’s still looking at Changkyun. “We got off on the wrong foot.”

This makes Changkyun raise an eyebrow at him. “I thought you hated me.”

“I hated the situation,” Hoseok replies. It’s not a lie. There’s a lot to hate about being essentially coerced into marrying a stranger. But there’s still one thing Hoseok doesn’t get.

“Why did you agree to do this?”

Changkyun shrugs, eyes trained on the tips of Hoseok’s shoes. “You probably think I’m only in it for the money, right?”

 _Yes._ That’s the answer that leaps straight to mind. But Hoseok pauses. It doesn’t feel quite true anymore. What he says, instead: “Technically, I'm in it for the money too.”

Something in Changkyun’s eyes flickers. He reaches up to finger at the silver earring dangling from his left ear. He hasn’t taken any of his jewelry off for the wedding, not even the eyebrow piercing. Hoseok has to respect that. 

“Your grandmother offered to pay for my parents to do some things they’ve always wanted to do,” Changkyun says. “I couldn’t say no to that.”

“And your parents were okay with that?”

Changkyun smiles wryly. “It wasn’t their choice,” he replies. “Just like how I didn’t get a choice when they chose to give up their dreams to pay for me to pursue mine.”

Hoseok doesn’t know what to say to this. Changkyun walks over to a low stone bench by a towering rose bush, and sits down with his legs stretched out in front of him. The heels of his feet rest in the gravel. The heels of his hands press against the edge of the stone bench. 

He’s so young.

They’re both so young.

“Is this the art gallery your mom wanted to run?”

Changkyun blinks. “Yeah,” he says, “you remembered.” He sounds surprised.

 _Of course I remembered,_ Hoseok wants to say. But he doesn’t.

“I paint, too,” he says. It’s not something he talks about often. Bad boy, heart-breaker, chaebol — it doesn’t quite fit his image. He supposes this is what Minhyuk means about him and his persona. 

“I remember — your aunt mentioned,” Changkyun replies. There’s a softness in his voice that Hoseok doesn’t think he’s heard before. “The gallery should take a few months to set up. But you should come visit when it does.”

Hoseok sits down on the bench next to Changkyun. “I’d love to," he says, and it surprises him to realise just how much he means it. The air is getting colder by the minute. He can faintly feel the body heat radiating off Changkyun.

“Do you have to stay married to me for a year for your mom to keep the gallery?”

Changkyun shakes his head. “Your grandma said the gallery — and the funding for my dad’s research — were ours to keep.”

Hoseok feels his chest tighten. “So you could marry me today, get divorced tomorrow.”

“I could.” Changkyun leans back on his hands. “But I won’t.”

Everything feels like it’s moving through water. Hoseok feels unsteady. “Why?”

Changkyun tips his head to the side to look at Hoseok. “Because I promised you I wouldn’t.” He straightens up, shifts so he’s facing Hoseok. Their knees bump. Changkyun smiles, close-lipped but genuine. Two small, shallow, dimples appear above the corners of his mouth. “We shook on it, remember?”

Hoseok finds himself returning the smile before he even realises it. “I remember.”

Above them, the fairy lights twinkle. And above that, the stars.

* * *

Minhyuk isn’t looking for Kihyun, per se. He’s actually looking for Hoseok, but instead he stumbles across Kihyun, standing by the bar with Hyungwon.

“We really need to stop running into each other like this,” Minhyuk says, tipping his head at Kihyun with a coy smirk. Kihyun turns to him, looking like someone whose cat’s just presented them with a dead mouse. Still hot, though, Minhyuk thinks to himself.

Next to him, Hyungwon suppresses a snicker. “I’m going to go find Kyun,” he says, clearly delighting in Kihyun’s obvious displeasure, and then picks up his champagne flute and floats off.

“What do you want?”

Minhyuk gasps, faux-offended. “Can’t I say hi to my cousin-in-law’s best friend?”

This does not seem to amuse Kihyun. “Cousin-in-law,” he repeats flatly. His eyes flicker out across the ballroom. “Where are they, anyway?”

“No clue.” Minhyuk makes eye contact with the bartender, beckons him over, before turning back to Kihyun. “Can I get you a drink this time?”

“It’s an open bar,” Kihyun says, but the corners of his lips twitch slightly. Minhyuk’s going to take that as a win. 

“And—?”

Kihyun rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says, “I’ll have a martini, then.”

Minhyuk beams proudly, ordering them their drinks from the bartender — who’s not bad looking himself, and would ordinarily be very much Minhyuk’s type, but Minhyuk is otherwise preoccupied. He props one elbow on the bar, chin resting in his hand. “So — you having a good time?”

“Hmm.” Kihyun watches at the bartender mixes their drinks. “Average.” He glances back at Minhyuk, quirking one eyebrow sardonically. “Hard to enjoy yourself when your best friend is being forced into an arranged marriage.”

Minhyuk huffs out a dry laugh. “Tell me about it,” he replies, as the bartender sets their drinks down in front of them. Minhyuk slides Kihyun’s martini over to him, waits as the bartender moves away before continuing, “I feel bad for Hoseok hyung.”

“Do you, now?” Kihyun sips at his drink. “You seem very — amused by the whole situation.”

“When you can’t do anything to change a shitty situation, what else is there to do besides laugh?” Minhyuk shrugs. “Hoseok hyung’s always had all this pressure on him — the heir to the biggest company in Korea, will he live up to his grandfather’s legacy, all of that. This is just more of the same.”

Kihyun makes a thoughtful murmuring noise. “At least he hasn’t been dragged completely out of his depth.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Minhyuk glances around the opulent ballroom. Even for a supposedly small wedding, this is still a pretty fancy set up. “But I get the sense that Changkyun will be fine.”

This, at least, makes Kihyun smile. “Yeah,” he says, “Changkyun’s tough. He’ll be okay.”

“Hoseok, on the other hand—” Minhyuk hesitates. He chews on his lower lip. “He’s soft. He’s not a stereotypical chaebol, you know? No matter what the media says about him.”

Kihyun doesn’t look like he believes Minhyuk, but he doesn’t comment on it. Just sets his drink down, fingers drumming on the side of the glass, like he’s considering something. 

“What about you?”

Minhyuk tilts his head at Kihyun. “What _about_ me?”

Kihyun picks his glass up, takes a long, slow sip, all the while studying Minhyuk carefully. There’s a glint in his eyes, one that Minhyuk can’t quite decipher. It feels like a challenge.

“Are _you_ a stereotypical chaebol?”

Minhyuk blinks. “I — well,” he starts, fumbling for his words before he finds his composure. He smirks. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

“Hmm,” Kihyun says. He takes another sip of his drink.

* * *

Hyungwon steps away from the bar, leaving Minhyuk and Kihyun to it. He’s pretty sure Minhyuk was hitting on Kihyun — that’s something he’ll have to ask Kihyun about later. In the meantime, he just scans the ballroom for Changkyun.

No luck. Hyungwon frowns, looking around to see if Hoseok is around. He knows that the whole marriage is fake, of course, but still — the thought of Changkyun being _married_ is utterly bizarre. He’s known Changkyun his entire life, been best friends for over a decade, and maybe it’s stupid, but some part of him had always assumed that things would never change between them.

And now, everything feels like it’s changing, and Hyungwon doesn’t think he’s ready.

He spots one of Hoseok’s friends sitting by himself at one of the tables to the side of the ballroom, finds himself heading over before he’s even sure why. It’s the blond one with the round cheeks and deep dimples — Jooheon, he thinks his name is. He’s nursing a champagne flute, idly looking at something across the room.

“Hello,” Hyungwon says, as he approaches. Jooheon blinks up at him, recognition slowly dawning.

“Oh,” he says, “hi.”

Hyungwon gestures at the empty chair next to Jooheon. “Can I join you?”

Jooheon nods, shrugging. “Sure.” He watches as Hyungwon pulls the chair out, and sits down. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Changkyun,” Hyungwon replies. “Have you seen him?”

“I think he went out into the gardens with Hoseok hyung.” Jooheon nods towards the glass doors behind them. 

Hyungwon glances out into the darkness beyond, only faintly lit up by strings of fairy lights. “Ah,” he says. He probably shouldn’t go bother the newlyweds, he thinks. _Newlyweds._ The word tastes bitter in his mouth. 

He turns back to Jooheon. “So, anyway — why are you sitting here by yourself? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know — mingling?”

Jooheon scrunches up his face in distaste. “This isn’t really my scene, to be honest,” he says. “I'm not into business. Or the schmoozing."

“Huh.” It had never really occurred to Hyungwon — though he supposes it should have — that not everyone born to the chaebol life would want it. He glances over to the bar at where Minhyuk and Kihyun are talking. “You’re good friends with Minhyuk-ssi, though? And Hoseok-ssi?”

“Yeah,” Jooheon says, “Hoseok hyung is a good guy. And Minhyuk hyung — he's always been there for me.” Then his gaze flicks over to where Hyungwon is looking, and a small smile crosses his face. “I think he likes your friend.”

Hyungwon laughs. “Well, good luck to him,” he says. “Ki’s a tough nut to crack.”

Jooheon grins at Hyungwon. His dimples appear again, making him look far softer and younger than his age. “Thankfully, Minhyuk hyung is _extremely_ persistent.”

Hyungwon laughs. Minhyuk's smile isn't faltering, not even in the face of Kihyun's impassive stare. Flirting openly, being upfront with your feelings — maybe that's not such a bad idea.

It's at this moment that the glass doors behind them swing open, and in steps Changkyun, with Hoseok following close behind him. 

“Hyung,” Changkyun says, spotting Hyungwon almost immediately. He glances back at Hoseok. “We were just — we went for a walk.”

Hyungwon gets to his feet, smiling at Changkyun. He wants to reach out, comb his fingers through Changkyun’s hair, pull him in for a hug. All the things that are so natural and comfortable for them. But it doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to any more.

“I know,” Hyungwon says, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Are you having a nice time?”

“Yeah.” Changkyun forces a feeble smile. His gaze flicks back to Hoseok again.

Hyungwon exhales slowly, turning to Hoseok. “I never said, but congratulations,” he says, as evenly as he can manage.

For some reason, though, Hoseok looks annoyed by this. “No need for that,” Hoseok says, a little tightly. “It’s not a real wedding, anyway.”

Changkyun narrows his eyes at Hoseok, before turning back to Hyungwon. “Come on, hyung,” he says, stepping closer and linking his arm with Hyungwon’s. Hyungwon tries to pretend his heart rate doesn’t speed up. “Let’s go look for my parents. They’re probably bored out of their minds.”

Hyungwon can feel both Hoseok and Jooheon staring at them as they leave. And maybe Hyungwon shouldn’t be letting Changkyun lead him around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t be slinging his arm around Changkyun’s shoulders like he’s always done, back from the first day they’d met in the playground. 

But Hyungwon’s always been a little stupid when it comes to Changkyun. And, he thinks, maybe he always will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! I'm back(ish) :) life has been crazy but I have hopefully sorted my shit out a bit more so I am gonna try and post more regularly. I would love to respond to all your lovely comments individually but the reality is with a full time job I often don't have the time... but please know that I read everything and you guys enjoying the fic is what makes me keep writing and posting! thank u so much for all the love and support :) I will try to respond to comments when I can but even if I don't or if it takes weeks please know that I appreciate you very much!!! and happy christmas all x
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


	7. The Interview

There's no honeymoon to go to once the wedding is over — obviously — and so Hoseok and Changkyun just find themselves standing in the living room of the penthouse, still dressed in their tuxedos, the anti-climax of the evening crashing down upon them.

"So, um," Hoseok says, not sure if it's more or less awkward to speak than to just troop off into his bedroom silently. But he's committed to this course of action now, he supposes, so he might as well keep talking. "I guess we're married now."

Changkyun gives him a look, and okay — Hoseok probably should have just kept his mouth shut.

"Never mind," Hoseok says, resignedly, turning to head back to his room. "Let's just go to bed, I'll see you tomorrow."

But Changkyun makes a jerky sort of motion, like he’s about to grab Hoseok’s wrist, except he seems to change his mind, and stops himself halfway. In any case, it has the desired effect, because Hoseok freezes, and doesn’t leave.

“I’m hungry,” Changkyun says, out of the blue. “Didn’t get to eat much at dinner. Are you hungry?”

Hoseok stares at Changkyun. “Yeah,” he says, “I guess I am.”

“Do you want to get takeout?” Changkyun’s not looking at Hoseok — is looking anywhere and everywhere  _ except  _ at Hoseok. “Let’s get takeout.”

And Hoseok has no idea where this is coming from, but he wants food and he supposes he wouldn’t mind the company, so they order fried chicken and beer off an app, and head to their separate bedrooms to get changed before re-congregating in the living room for a late-night snack.

When Hoseok comes back down the stairs from his room, the chicken has already arrived. Changkyun is sitting on the floor by the coffee table, opening the boxes and setting out the napkins and beer cans that came with the food. He looks up when Hoseok approaches.

“Ah,” he says, “I wasn’t sure if you’d come back.”

Hoseok sits down next to him. The chicken smells incredible. He’s starving. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

Changkyun doesn’t say anything to this, but Hoseok thinks he smiles faintly to himself. He’s just in a hoodie and sweatpants, and all his makeup and jewelry are off, but he still looks really good. Younger, in a way, but also more open, more approachable. Hoseok watches as he picks up a piece of chicken gingerly, tears a juicy piece of flesh away with his teeth. A little dribble of oil drips down his chin.

“You, um,” Hoseok says, hesitating. He points at Changkyun’s chin. “You have a bit of oil—”

“Huh? Oh—” Changkyun takes a second to get Hoseok’s meaning, but then he’s laughing to himself and fumbling to get a napkin and wipe his chin. He grins sheepishly at Hoseok. “Oops,” he mumbles, dabbing at the offending dribble of oil.

Hoseok picks up a piece of chicken himself, and digs in. Cracks open a can of beer, takes a swig.

“Did you see Minhyuk hyung flirting with Kihyun?” Changkyun asks, abruptly. He glances at Hoseok, then chuckles. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

Hoseok grins. “Yeah, me neither,” he replies. Minhyuk’s an incorrigible flirt, but he’s a little surprised that he’s chosen to go for Kihyun. Minhyuk’s got enough admirers that he doesn’t need to work so hard with someone who seems to only ever look at him with an expression of mild disdain — but maybe that’s exactly why he wants the challenge. “Minhyuk’s so obvious — he means well, though.”

Changkyun smiles, sipping at his own can of beer. “Yeah,” he replies, “I can tell.”

It feels normal, Hoseok realises. It makes him think of all those late nights with Minhyuk, back when they were teenagers and still living in the same house. When they’d order unhealthy food and sit in the dim light and whisper and gossip until it was far too late in the night.

Hoseok wonders if he can pretend that he and Changkyun are friends. He puts his half-eaten piece of chicken down. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Changkyun looks at him, head tilted to one side, universal gesture for,  _ go ahead. _ Hoseok clears his throat awkwardly, brings his beer to his lips and tips his head back. Liquid courage.

“You and Hyungwon-ssi,” he starts, then falters. Where the hell is he going with this? He grimaces. “I don’t mean to pry—” he says, trailing off.

Changkyun shakes his head slightly. “No, it’s okay,” he says, “you can ask.”

Hoseok studies Changkyun carefully. He’s nibbling very delicately at his piece of chicken, studiously nonchalant. Hoseok could call him out for the pretence, but he chooses not to. If Changkyun wants to pretend it’s no big deal, then Hoseok will do the same.

“So — do you like him?”

A weird silence follows. Changkyun continues eating, as if Hoseok hadn’t even said anything. Hoseok’s starting to wonder if he  _ had  _ said anything. Maybe he had just asked the question in his head. Maybe he should ask again, out loud.

Then Changkyun sighs, evidently finished with his chicken, the bone of which he sets down on a napkin, and slumps against the foot of the sofa. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

“No, no,” Hoseok denies, the lie sounding false even to his own ears. “I just thought — it seems like you guys have history. I was curious. You don’t have to tell me anything.” The words tumble out of him like a waterfall.

Changkyun wipes his fingers on a napkin. “We don’t have history,” he says, quietly. “We’ve been best friends ever since I came back from Boston — he was a year ahead of me in high school. But that’s it. We’re just best friends.”

“Huh.” Hoseok can see the wistful, almost regretful, look in Changkyun’s eyes. “But you like him.”

“Always have,” Changkyun replies, and Hoseok is a little taken aback by the unexpected blunt honesty. Changkyun laughs, but it sounds hollow, and turns to Hoseok. “It’s stupid, right?”

Hoseok doesn’t know what that’s like, to have such strong feelings for someone and for those feelings to last and last. But he doesn’t think it’s stupid, not at all.

“Have you told him?”

Changkyun makes a face. “Absolutely not,” he says, like it’s an outrageous suggestion. “We’re friends. I don’t want to make it weird.”

Hoseok has no idea what the right thing to say is. All he knows is that Changkyun looks kind of sad, and Hoseok doesn’t like it. Hoseok doesn’t like seeing people sad.

“Anyway,” Changkyun says, overly brightly, interrupting Hoseok’s train of thought, “doesn’t matter. I’m a married man now!” He grins broadly at Hoseok. “Right, hubby?”

Despite himself, Hoseok laughs. “Yuck,” he says, playful and light-hearted, “don’t remind me.”

Changkyun snorts out a suppressed giggle, and then he’s opening another can of beer, and Hoseok is starting to think that maybe the next year won’t be the worst thing in the world.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They have an interview the following week. Just the one, because Hoseok had — apparently — kicked up a massive fuss and refused to do even a single photoshoot more. Changkyun can’t help but wonder if it’s down to Hoseok’s aversion to publicity or if it’s, maybe, for his sake.

In any case, Changkyun is grateful not to have to endure any more of this than necessary. And by  _ this, _ he means — make-up artists and hairstylists fussing at his face and hair, people throwing outfit after outfit at him and making him change into them so that they can see how it looks, PR guys from Shin Enterprises making him run through the answers to some of the stock interview questions to make sure he won’t fuck up.

It’s only been a couple of hours, the actual interview hasn’t even started, and Changkyun’s already more than done with it.

They have to do a photoshoot before the actual interview, because Hoseok’s wedding is apparently important enough to warrant a cover feature on the magazine, and Changkyun’s seething with annoyance by the time he steps onto the set. Hoseok gives him a wary look, but doesn’t say anything.

The studio lights are bright, and Changkyun squints past them, trying to make out the camera and the photographer behind the lens. He stands stiffly in front of Hoseok, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

“Uh — Changkyun-ssi,” the photographer calls out, sounding unsure, “could you try to — relax? Maybe stand a little closer to Hoseok-ssi?”

Changkyun scowls, and shuffles towards Hoseok a fraction. Behind him, he hears Hoseok suppress a laugh.

“Is my misery funny to you?” Changkyun grits out, glaring at Hoseok out of the corner of his eye, irritation mounting.

Hoseok smirks. “No, it’s just — look, just try to pretend the cameras aren’t there, okay?” He places one hand on the small of Changkyun’s back, and Changkyun tenses up.

“Easy for you to say,” Changkyun says. He eyes the photographer, and all of the staff behind the camera. They don’t look happy with him.

“Hey, look at me.” Hoseok speaks firmly this time, and applies the slightest amount of pressure against Changkyun’s back, just enough to turn Changkyun to face him. Changkyun looks up into his eyes, feeling distinctly disgruntled. Hoseok slides both of his hands to Changkyun’s waist. “Just — if it helps, pretend I’m — someone else.”

Changkyun blinks up at Hoseok. The meaning is clear from the way he’s speaking —  _ pretend I’m Hyungwon,  _ Hoseok is saying.

“Hoseok hyung—” Changkyun says, uncertainly. That doesn’t feel quite right. Hoseok isn’t Hyungwon.

“Shh, it’s fine,” Hoseok says. He smiles down at Changkyun, places one hand on his cheek. Changkyun’s heart leaps in his chest. “Just follow my lead, okay?”

Changkyun nods mutely, eyes still locked on Hoseok. He can feel his breath hitching as Hoseok leans forward, tipping closer until their foreheads are pressed together. Changkyun feels suddenly unsteady on his feet, his vision blurring as he tries to focus on Hoseok — too close, far too close. He places his hands on Hoseok’s hips for support.

“Wonderful!” cries out the photographer, and Changkyun startles back to reality, his eyes flying open. When had he closed his eyes? He swallows tightly, clearing his throat and stepping back a little from Hoseok. Except not too far, because Hoseok still has one hand on his waist.

The photographer is peering around the camera at them, beaming with pride. “You know,” he says, conspiratorially, “if you kissed, that would make for a great cover shot.”

Changkyun stiffens at the suggestion. Having to kiss Hoseok is one thing, but in front of the cameras, beneath all of these lights? Anxiety skitters through his veins.

“I think we have the shots we need,” Hoseok says, curtly. He releases Changkyun, and turns to step off the set. “Let’s move on.”

The photographer scrambles to stand up, bowing deeply. “Ah, yes, yes,” he says, “you’re right, we have everything we need — good work, Hoseok-ssi, Changkyun-ssi.”

Changkyun forces a smile, returning the bow. Hoseok disappears into the darkness behind the lights without looking back.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“And, of course, congratulations on your wedding.”

Hoseok smiles placidly at the interviewer. There are cameras on them, and so Changkyun tries to mirror his diplomatic smile. Even though the interview is mainly for the purposes of a print article, the magazine had wanted to record it for a video on their SNS. Which meant that Changkyun’s torture, his fidgeting in uncomfortably expensive clothes under searingly hot lights, was doomed to continue.

“Thank you so much,” replies Hoseok, smooth as ever. He places one hand on Changkyun’s back. It’s meant to be affectionate, Changkyun thinks. He can’t tell anymore, exhaustion and nerves frying his brain. Hoseok, on the other hand, seems blissfully unaffected. “We’re so happy.”

The interviewer, a slight woman with startlingly sharp eyes, beams at them, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “It all happened so quickly, of course,” she says, eyes glinting. “The public are very curious about why that is the case.”

Hoseok’s smile doesn’t even falter slightly. He removes his hand from Changkyun’s back, and places it instead over Changkyun’s hand, where it’s resting in his lap. Changkyun glances at him, and silently turns his hand over so they can interlace their fingers.

“We wanted to keep it lowkey,” Hoseok says, “no offence, but the press can be quite — invasive.” He beams at their interviewer, who just beams back. Changkyun is the only one, it seems, incapable of smiling through the tension.

“Of course, of course,” the interview replies. She leans forward slightly, fixing Hoseok with a penetrating stare. “You do have a reputation, though, Hoseok-ssi,” she starts, and Changkyun has no idea where this is going, “so you can’t blame us for being — shall we say,  _ surprised,  _ when you suddenly got married.”

Hoseok’s grip on Changkyun’s hand tightens, ever so slightly — the only hint that he’s not completely unaffected. “Was there a question?” he asks, evenly.

“Oh yes,” the interviewer laughs, covering her mouth with one delicate hand. Then she falls silent abruptly, gaze flicking over to Changkyun. “I guess the question was for Changkyun-ssi,” she says, and Changkyun gets the distinct impression of a lion, about to pounce. “What is your opinion, Changkyun-ssi, on your husband’s... _ reputation?” _

Changkyun feels like his mind goes blank, the moment the interviewer says his name. He tries to remember what the PR guys had said to him. Deny the reputation? Say it doesn’t bother him? Pretend he doesn’t know what the reputation is? God,  _ why can’t he remember anything? _

“Uh,” Changkyun says, hesitating. Next to him, Hoseok’s frowning, and opening his mouth like he’s about to speak. But Hoseok already done so much, basically carried this entire interview on his shoulders. Changkyun can do this one thing. He can.

“Hoseok hyung’s reputation,” Changkyun starts, vaguely, to buy himself some time. Hoseok glances at him in surprise, and mild concern. Changkyun ignores him, just plasters a smile on his face and keeps going, “His reputation is nothing like who he actually is. He’s caring, and funny, and—” Changkyun pauses, looks at Hoseok. There’s a faint smile on his lips. It encourages Changkyun to keep going. “He knows I’m not used to the spotlight, and that I don’t like it. That’s the reason why we’ve kept things so lowkey. But he’s tired — we’re both tired — of the rumours the press likes to spread about him. So that’s why we’re not keeping this a secret anymore.”

The interviewer looks taken aback by Changkyun’s sudden eloquence, but she recovers quickly, smiling with genuine warmth. His answer appears to have sat well with her. “That’s very sweet, Changkyun-ssi-,” she says. “It sounds like you’re more mature than we’ve given you credit for, Hoseok-ssi — do you have confidence you will be able to take over Shin Enterprises…”

Changkyun stops listening so closely as the tenor of the questions shifts towards business. Hoseok’s responding smoothly to the interviewer’s questions, explaining how he understands the public’s concerns, but that he promises to be a good leader who understands his own shortcomings and builds a team who can complement him.

All the while, Changkyun’s attention just narrows in on Hoseok’s hand, still holding his own. Hoseok doesn’t let go for the rest of the interview. Changkyun finds that he doesn’t mind.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A short video snippet of the interview goes up, two days later — a teaser for the upcoming issue of the magazine. Hoseok sees it when Minhyuk sends it to him, accompanied by a line of heart-eyed emojis.

It’s only a short segment of the interview, but it’s also the one that had stuck the most closely in Hoseok’s mind. He sits on the sofa, legs curled up beneath him. On his phone, the little image of Changkyun is furrowing his brow, and responding to the interviewer’s question about Hoseok’s reputation with what appears to be utter sincerity. 

Changkyun is a really, really good actor, Hoseok thinks. That’s what this has to be. No other explanation makes sense.

But he wants to know. If Changkyun had meant any bit of what he’d said in the interview.

“Have you seen the video?” he asks, later that evening. They’re sitting at the dining table, having dinner together. It’s something they do now, apparently. Hoseok doesn’t remember how it started, or when it became something like a routine.

Changkyun’s eyes flick up to him, before darting back down to his bowl of rice. “Yeah,” he replies, coolly, “Minhyuk hyung sent it to me.”

_ Ah, that meddlesome little—  _

Hoseok smiles tightly. “Did he?” he asks. “What did he say about it?”

“He said it was cute.” Changkyun spoons some soup into his mouth. As always, he is completely unreadable.

“Cute,” Hoseok repeats. “Yes, I guess it was cute.”

Changkyun arches one eyebrow at him. “I thought it was pretty cool, myself,” he says, sounding oddly smug, “especially since I’d forgotten everything your PR team had said to me. Whipping that out on the spot? Pretty smooth, don’t you think?”

Hoseok stares at Changkyun. “No one told you to say that?”

“Nope.” Changkyun wrinkles up his nose. “Why? Was it not good? I thought it was pretty good.”

“No, no, it was — it was good. Great. Very cool.”

The worry in Changkyun’s brow fades away. He beams at Hoseok. “Good,” he says, quietly. He picks up a piece of kimchi with his chopsticks, pops it into his mouth. “I meant it, you know.”

Hoseok freezes midway through reaching for a piece of  _ galbi. _ He lowers his hand. “What?”

Changkyun shrugs, not looking at him. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were, initially,” he says, “I appreciate you trying to, I don’t know — make this a bit easier for me.”

“Huh.” Hoseok doesn’t know what to say. “That’s — you’re welcome, I guess.”

Changkyun finally looks at him. He smiles. “You also answered those questions about the business pretty well. I’m impressed.”

It’s such a genuine, sincere, compliment, that Hoseok feels his cheeks heating up. “Ah,” he says, once again stupidly tongue-tied in front of Changkyun for some inexplicable reason. “I, um — guess I’m not just a pretty face,” he finishes, lamely. Forces a grin.

Changkyun snorts out a laugh.  _ “Are _ you a pretty face?” he teases, and for a second Hoseok goes still, panicking that he’s come across as arrogant, until he realises that Changkyun is grinning at him with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Yes, I am,” Hoseok replies, haughtily. “I know you’re distracted by my  _ hot body,  _ but I assure you that my face is just as excellent.”

This makes Changkyun choke on a bit of his soup. His cheeks go a very arrestingly pretty pink colour, and he refuses to meet Hoseok’s gaze. “Shut up,” he complains, and there’s the slightest hint of a whine in his voice. 

_ Cute, _ Hoseok thinks, unbidden.  _ Cute. _

And then, just as quickly, sounding out like a siren —  _ danger, danger. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy chinese new year to whoever celebrates it! I've been having an amazing time with family eating lots of food, and I hope everyone else has been having a nice time too :) tbh I'm lowkey losing faith in myself and in this story but I am hoping to get the inspiration back soon - I hope you guys continue to enjoy and that you stick with me <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


	8. The Surprise

It shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t.

Hoseok stares at his phone, at the message from Changkyun: _Having dinner with Hyungwon hyung tonight, don’t wait up._

They had settled into something of a routine, having dinners together. Hoseok had become so used to living alone, that it’s actually kind of nice having someone around for company. Just because having someone to talk to is better than eating alone all the time.

But, over this past week, Changkyun’s been busy finishing up a track for a moderately well-known idol group, and he’s been spending all his time in his studio. Which is fine. Hoseok just orders in for one instead of for two, and goes back to his old routine of watching TV while eating.

He had been looking forward to today, though. Changkyun’s track would have been submitted earlier in the day, which meant that this was the first evening Changkyun could have dinner at home in a week.

Except Changkyun’s not having dinner at home.

Hoseok glares at the TV screen, at the couple sharing udon in a streetside tent. He picks up the remote and stabs violently at the power off button. The screen snaps back to black.

It’s almost eleven, a quick check of his watch tells Hoseok. How long does it take to eat dinner? Is Changkyun even coming home tonight? Hoseok grumbles indistinctly under his breath, slipping his phone out of his pocket and pulling up Changkyun’s chat window again. Maybe he should text him. Just to make sure everything’s okay. 

Hoseok types out a message experimentally, then stares at it. 

_What time are you coming back?_ That sounds kind of — aggressive. Not the vibe Hoseok’s going for. He deletes it, tries again. 

_Are you on your way back?_ No, too presumptuous.

_Hope you’re okay! Let me know if you need a lift back!_ Definitely not, far too...needy.

Hoseok groans, flops forward into the sofa, face smushing into the cushions. What the hell is wrong with him? It’s not like he _needs_ Changkyun here, or that he even _wants_ him here. It’s just weird. He’s just become oddly accustomed to Changkyun’s presence. And besides, they’re husbands! He’s allowed to worry about his husband!

He picks his phone back up, lying back on the sofa, staring up at the screen forlornly. Changkyun’s ‘last seen online’ is from four hours ago.

“Get a grip, Shin Hoseok,” he mutters to himself, tossing his phone towards the other end of the sofa. He rolls onto his side, reaching out for the remote to turn the TV back on. The romance movie playing is still annoying him, so he switches channels until he finds a channel doing a marathon of some home renovation program. There’s a lady on screen, holding up two identical swatches of fabric, trying to decide between them. Hoseok chuckles to himself, dragging the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapping himself up in it. He’s not waiting up for Changkyun. He just has a very riveting home renovation show to watch.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Someone’s calling his name, and gently shaking his shoulder. Hoseok blinks his eyes open blearily. The first thing he sees is a man, on screen, gesturing enthusiastically at a selection of cushions. Hoseok frowns in confusion. _What’s going on?_

Then he hears his name again, and shifts his attention to see Changkyun, crouched down beside the sofa. “Hoseok hyung,” he’s saying, “why are you sleeping here?”

Hoseok rubs at his eyes. “Home renovation,” he mumbles incoherently, stretching his arms overhead. He pushes himself to sitting. “What time is it?”

“Around midnight,” Changkyun replies. “I just got home, and you were asleep on the sofa. Why are watching home renovation shows?”

“For fun,” Hoseok says. He focuses more intently on Changkyun, now that he feels slightly less groggy. Changkyun’s wearing a black cap, and a mask that’s pulled down below his chin. Hoseok taps on the brim of Changkyun’s cap. “You’re wearing a disguise.”

Changkyun exhales a small huff of breath. He climbs to his feet, shaking his head. “Hardly a disguise,” he says, “I just — you told me to be careful.”

“I did,” Hoseok says, proudly. He yawns and stretches again. “It’s late.”

“Yes, it is.” Changkyun switches the TV off and reaches out a hand towards Hoseok. “Come on, you should go to bed.”

Hoseok looks at Changkyun’s hand for a moment, before taking it and letting Changyun pull him to his feet. “You should go to bed too,” he complains, not quite able to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice, “why did you stay out so late?”

“Just because,” Changkyun says, not looking at Hoseok. “I told you not to wait up.”

“I wasn’t _waiting up,”_ objects Hoseok, “I was watching home renovation shows.”

Changkyun chuckles. “Yes, yes, I know,” he says — a little patronisingly, Hoseok thinks. He glares at Changkyun’s back. “Are you thinking of renovating the penthouse?”

“I’m just interested in interior design,” Hoseok grumbles. He shuffles after Changkyun out of the living room. “Yah — you haven’t told me why you were so late!”

Changkyun stops by the stairs to Hoseok’s room, where he should be turning off down the hallway to his own bedroom. He turns to look at Hoseok, fixing him with a hard stare. “We just lost track of time,” he says, a little tightly, “it’s not a big deal.”

Maybe it’s because Hoseok’s still a little groggy, and his brain is a fog. Maybe it’s just because he _had_ been waiting up for Changkyun, home renovation shows be damned, and he’s getting annoyed that Changkyun isn’t taking any of this seriously.

“It’s a medium-sized deal,” Hoseok mutters. “I’m still your husband _in name,_ and I haven’t seen you all week.”

Changkyun raises one eyebrow at Hoseok. “What happened to not getting involved in each other’s personal lives?”

Hoseok opens his mouth to snap something in response, then closes it again. That’s a fair point. He purses his lips. “This isn’t about your personal life,” he says, hotly, “it’s just — it looks bad! If you’re always hanging out outside the house instead of with your _newlywed husband,_ whom you’re supposedly _madly in love with.”_

There’s a long pause after Hoseok says this. Changkyun eyes Hoseok curiously, irritation giving way to something more like — amusement. Hoseok doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t like it. 

He coughs uncomfortably. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Changkyun’s lips quirk up into a knowing smirk. “Hyung,” he says, slowly, “are you, perhaps — jealous?”

Hoseok gapes at Changkyun. That’s — that’s just — that’s _neither here nor there._

“I am _not_ jealous!” he snaps. “What — hah — why would I — I have nothing to be jealous about!”

Changkyun just stands there, staring at Hoseok, and Hoseok feels something inside him deflate. He scrunches up his face, folding his arms across his chest. “Shut up,” he mutters lowly, “not jealous.”

He senses, rather than sees, Changkyun step closer to him. They’re still not standing very close to each other, but the movement feels — symbolic. Hoseok looks up.

“I went back to my old flat with Hyungwon hyung after dinner,” Changkyun says, without prelude, “and Kihyun hyung was there so the three of us had a couple of beers. That’s why I’m late.”

Hoseok feels suddenly, incredibly, guilty. It’s none of his business what Changkyun was doing. He chews on his bottom lip. “Sorry,” he says, “I overreacted. I was just—” He sighs. “It was weird, this week, not having dinner with you. I’ve gotten used to it.”

Changkyun nods. “Yeah,” he says, “me too.”

Hoseok nods back silently. That’s certainly news to him.

“It’s a shame I have to stay at the studio till late when I’m busy,” Changkyun continues, shrugging, “if I could come home to have dinner with you, then go back to work, I would.”

Hoseok has nothing else to say. It’s very late, and he’s very confused. He stares at Changkyun.

“Well.” Changkyun rubs at the back of his neck. “I should go to bed.”

“Uh, yes.” Hoseok gestures towards Changkyun’s bedroom. “Sorry for keeping you.”

Changkyun steps back, without turning away. He smiles, close-lipped, at Hoseok. “You should go to bed too, hyung.”

Hoseok forces an awkward smile, turning away. Then Changkyun calls his name, and Hoseok whips his head back around.

There’s a smile playing on Changkyun’s lips. “Oh, I forgot to say,” he’s mumbling, sounding faintly amused, “thank you. For — watching home renovation shows, for me.” He nods his head at Hoseok, the unspoken acknowledgement that he knew Hoseok was waiting up for him.

“That’s — yes. Okay.” Hoseok huffs out a small laugh, despite himself. Despite the embarrassment colouring his cheeks. “Goodnight, Changkyun.”

Changkyun grins and turns away. Hoseok watches him disappear into his room.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s a week or so later, when Changkyun arrives home to Hoseok rushing to meet him in the entranceway, looking inexplicably excited but also oddly nervous. 

“You’re back!” Hoseok near-shouts. He has his hands clasped behind his back, is rocking back and forth on his heels.

Changkyun gives Hoseok a funny look as he toes his shoes off, and slips his feet into his house slippers. “What’s wrong with you?”

Hoseok trails after Changkyun into the house. “Nothing,” he says, still sounding desperately on edge. It’s weirding Changkyun out. “I just — I have something to show you.”

“Can I get changed first?” Changkyun asks, “or, like — put my bag down?”

“No time!” Hoseok cries out. He drags Changkyun’s backpack off his shoulder, drops it unceremoniously onto the sofa. “Come here, come here—”

Hoseok places his hands on Changkyun’s shoulders and steers him down the hallway towards his bedroom. Except he marches straight past the door to Changkyun’s room, and for a moment, Changkyun thinks he’s leading him into the guest bathroom at the end of the corridor. 

Then he stops outside the door to the spare bedroom. 

Changkyun stares at the closed door, then turns to look at Hoseok. “What?”

“It’s in here,” Hoseok says, “but you have to close your eyes.”

Changkyun pouts. “But why?”

“Because!” Hoseok whacks Changkyun on the shoulder. It doesn’t really hurt, but Changkyun whines and rubs his arm. Hoseok, who usually relents and apologises when Changkyun does that, doesn’t even seem to notice. “Close your eyes!” he wails, and he sounds so nervous and desperate that Changkyun complies.

“Okay, okay, my eyes are closed.” Changkyun turns back towards the door. “What now?”

He can hear the sound of Hoseok opening the door, and he really, really wants to open his eyes. But he keeps them tightly squeezed shut. 

“Now, if you don’t like it, that’s okay,” Hoseok is saying, “it was just an idea. And you can change things, if you don’t like them. Really, it’s just an idea.”

Changkyun juts his lower lip out. “Seriously, what is it? Can I open my eyes now?”

He startles slightly when he feels Hoseok’s hands, one on his lower back and one on his shoulder, gently nudging him into the room. He shuffles forward, trying to figure out what the surprise could possibly be. It has to be something physically _large,_ if it has to be stored in a whole separate room. But Changkyun can’t imagine what it could possibly be. He figures it’s some sort of present, but he doesn’t think he’s asked for anything recently, and his birthday isn’t for almost nine months.

Hoseok taps him on the shoulder. “Okay,” he says, quietly, “open your eyes.”

Changkyun blinks his eyes open. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for at first. There doesn’t seem to be anything large and bulky and sitting, out of place, in the middle of the room.

Then he realises. It’s not something _in_ the room. It _is_ the room.

The guest bed and dresser and all the furniture in the room have been removed. In their place, there’s a large desk, on which sits a variety of recording equipment. A fancy-looking mixing board, a whole bunch of mics, a keyboard and a variety of MIDI controllers. A dual monitor set-up sits to the side of all of this, facing what used to be the window, but is now just part of a wall that’s been covered in acoustic panels.

“Surprise,” says Hoseok. He gestures to the chair, which looks like an ergonomic dream. “Sit, sit.”

Changkyun feels like he’s floating over to the chair. He sinks down into it in mute awe. Spins slowly around, fingers gently touching the surface of the mixing board.

“Do you — do you like it?”

Changkyun looks up to see Hoseok hovering uncertainly next to him, eyes wide in anticipation. Hoseok did this all — for _him._ Changkyun’s chest is excruciatingly tight.

“Hyung—” he says. He feels like he’s forgotten how to speak.

Hoseok scrunches up his face. “Ah, is it too much?” He looks down, scratching at the back of his head awkwardly. “I just — you work so hard, and I thought, maybe it would be easier if you could have your studio at home. You don’t have to use it, it was just a thought—”

Changkyun stands up quickly, stepping towards Hoseok. “Hyung,” he repeats, more firmly this time. Hoseok looks up at him. Changkyun reaches out, places one hand on Hoseok’s forearm. “I — I love it. Hyung, it’s so great.”

“Yeah?” The worry in Hoseok face melts away. A small smile spreads across his lips. “You do? I didn’t really know what equipment you needed, so I asked some friends for help, we can return whatever you don’t like—”

Changkyun feels like everything inside him is expanding, so quickly and so insistently, that he’s going to burst. “Hoseok hyung,” he says again, to interrupt Hoseok’s ramble. He smiles as genuinely as he can, trying to convey just how much this means to him. “Seriously, this is amazing. Thank you so much.”

Hoseok looks so wildly, stupidly happy. Changkyun feels like he needs to lie down, he’s so overwhelmed.

“I’m glad you like it,” Hoseok says, shyly. “If there’s more stuff you need from your own studio, I can get it moved over.”

“Okay,” Changkyun says. He takes Hoseok’s hands in his own. “Hyung, stop worrying. This is perfect. It must have cost a fortune.”

Hoseok just laughs, shaking his head. “I’m the _heir_ to _Shin Enterprises,”_ he says, putting on an air of snootiness, “if I can’t pamper my husband, who can?”

Changkyun releases Hoseok’s hands and gives his shoulder a playful shove. “Show-off,” he teases. “How long have you been working on this?”

“All week,” Hoseok replies. He beams. “During the day, when you were out, I had people come in to set it all up. I kept the door locked when you were home but I was so afraid you’d try to come in here.”

Changkyun drops back down into the chair. He exhales, still reeling from the shock. “I can’t believe you did this.”

Hoseok places one hand on the back of Changkyun’s chair, just by the headrest. He isn’t touching Changkyun, but Changkyun feels like the heat radiating off his hand is searing into the back of his neck.

“Me neither,” Hoseok says, and he sounds like he means it. He chuckles, staring round the room in bewilderment, like he’s only just noticed it. “I’m going soft — look what you’ve done to me.” 

He sounds like he’s joking. Changkyun cranes his neck, turning to look up at him. It doesn’t feel like a joke.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hyungwon has always had Changkyun by his side. They’ve both dated other people, of course — but never anything serious enough to make a difference. Even when Kihyun arrived in their lives, and the duo became a trio, there had always been something special between Hyungwon and Changkyun.

Kihyun’s never minded, Hyungwon doesn’t think. He knows that whatever exists between Hyungwon and Changkyun defies explanation. He doesn’t resent them for it, nor does he try to compete with it.

But he _knows._ He’s one of the only people in the world — maybe the _only_ person in the world — who gets it.

Which is why, when Changkyun spends most of their next group dinner talking about the home studio Hoseok had set up for him, Kihyun just won’t stop glancing over at Hyungwon. Like he’s looking for something there. Hyungwon doesn’t know what he’s looking for, and he doesn’t know if he finds it.

“It’s just — weird, you know?” Changkyun’s saying now. He rests his chin in the heel of one hand, elbow propped up against the table. “He’s being really nice to me.”

Hyungwon avoids Kihyun’s gaze. He plasters a broad grin on his face. “Why is that weird?” he asks, laughing, “You’re cute. People want to be nice to you.”

Changkyun rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Shut up, hyung,” he whines.

“So, what, are you guys friends now?” Kihyun is distinctly less amused by the overall state of affairs, and also not trying anywhere near as hard as Hyungwon to pretend to be okay with it. He fixes Changkyun with a piercing gaze.

“I don’t know, maybe,” Changkyun replies vaguely. “Isn’t this good? That he doesn’t hate me anymore?”

Kihyun’s lips thin into a straight line. “I suppose,” he says, not sounding like he means it at all, “but he’s really going above and beyond, isn’t he? What’s he trying to do?”

“Why must he be trying to do something? Maybe he’s just being nice.” Changkyun sounds a little defensive. Hyungwon shoots Kihyun a warning look, which Kihyun receives, and then proceeds to ignore.

“I’m just saying,” Kihuyun continues, “to be careful.”

The expression on Changkyun’s face tightens. “I’m always careful,” he says. “You don’t need to baby me.”

Kihyun narrows his eyes. “Changkyun—”

And, okay — that’s enough. Hyungwon pushes himself to his feet. The chair scrapes against the wood floor. 

“It’s late,” he announces. “Kyun-ah, you should probably start heading back.”

Changkyun gives Hyungwon an odd look, but he doesn’t object. The tension dissipates slightly, but it doesn’t completely disappear. Changkyun still gives Kihyun a hug goodnight, though. Kihyun kisses him lightly on the cheek.

“I love you, okay,” Kihyun says, fiercely. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Changkyun replies. He’s smiling. “I love you too.”

Hyungwon walks Changkyun to the subway station. They both have caps on, and masks. Just in case. The weather’s warming up, but the nights are still chilly, and they’re both in oversized hoodies and jeans. It feels — just like the old days.

“Ki just worries about you,” Hyungwon says, halfway through the walk to the subway station. He peeks down at Changkyun from the corner of his eye. "Don't get him wrong."

Changkyun shrugs. He doesn't look at Hyungwon. "I know," he says, "but I can take care of myself."

"I know you can." Hyungwon throws one arm around Changkyun's shoulders, drags him close. Changkyun tucks into his side like he always has. Like he belongs there. "You never let anyone take care of you. But with the way things are — it's hard not to worry."

The tension in Changkyun's shoulders releases slightly. He sighs, curling one arm around Hyungwon's waist as he leans against Hyungwon. "Hyung—" he starts. He sounds weary.

"Seriously," Hyungwon says, cutting off whatever objection Changkyun had been about to supply, "let us worry about you. Just a little bit." He keeps his voice bright, and playful. Because he has to. In the face of everything that's happening. He has to.

They arrive at the entrance to the subway station. Changkyun stops, and turns to Hyungwon. He has to tip his head up to make eye contact from beneath the brim of his cap. "Okay, fine," he grumbles, "but don't worry too much."

Hyungwon beams. "Promise," he replies. He places both hands on Changkyun's shoulders. "Kihyun means it, you know — he really does love you."

Changkyun nods. "I know."

"And I love you too," Hyungwon adds, before he can stop himself.

Changkyun stares at him. "Yeah," he replies, "me too."

A gust of cold air blows. Hyungwon shivers involuntarily.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Kihyun is waiting for Hyungwon, when he returns. He's at the dining table, two steaming mugs of tea sitting on the table in front of him.

"Sit," Kihyun says, in a voice that leaves no room for argument. He nods at the chair across from him, which Hyungwon drops into meekly.

"You made me tea," Hyungwon says, laughing, trying to detract from the tense way Kihyun's staring at him. "You're never this nice to me, to what do I owe this great honour?"

Kihyun just stares at Hyungwon humourlessly. "We need to talk," he says, "about Changkyun."

Hyungwon lets the smile slip from his face. "There's nothing to talk about."

His objection falls on deaf ears. Kihyun drums his fingers against the side of his mug. "Do you remember, three years ago, the first and last time I asked you about Changkyun?" 

Of course Hyungwon remembers. Kihyun had shoved him into a club bathroom and locked the door behind them. It was like one of Hyungwon's infrequent nighttime hook-ups, except with far less dick-touching and far more insistent questioning. Also overall far less enjoyable.

"I remember," Hyungwon says glumly. He doesn't like where this is going.

"And do you remember what you said to me then?"

Hyungwon scowls at the mug of tea sitting on the table in front of him. "Yeah," he grumbles, resentfully.

"You said," Kihyun continues, as if Hyungwon hadn't spoken, "that Changkyun was your best friend, and that you would never do anything to risk that. And when I asked what would happen if Changkyun started going out with someone else, what did you say?"

Hyungwon sighs heavily, dragging his gaze up to meet Kihyun's. "I said that I would only ever be happy for him."

Kihyun arches one eyebrow at Hyungwon. "And—?" 

"And that, if there ever came a day where I wasn't — you were allowed to ask me about it again."

"Yes." Kihyun leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "So here I am. Asking you about it."

Hyungwon makes a face and shrugs half-heartedly. "I'm not sure what you want me to say — he's married now."

"Yeah, but only in name," Kihyun protests. "Stop making excuses for yourself. If you don't want to pursue this, if you're scared, just _say it,_ stop hiding."

"It's not that I don't want to pursue it, it's just — I don't—"

Kihyun glares at Hyungwon. "Just _what?"_ he snaps. "What's the excuse now?"

Hyungwon slumps down in his chair. "I don't — is he even allowed to pursue romantic relationships while married?"

"I don't fucking know, but neither do you," Kihyun says, hotly. Then he sighs, and reaches across the table to hold Hyungwon's hands. "All you can do is ask Changkyun. You owe this to yourself. To both of you."

Hyungwon forces a weak smile. "And what if I said I was happy with the way things are?"

Kihyun smiles back, small and sad. "Then I'd tell you what I should have told you, three years ago," he says, "I'd tell you to stop lying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> owo
> 
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	9. The Interlude

“Hyunwoo’s having a birthday party next weekend.”

They’re sitting in the living room after dinner, not really talking, just doing their own thing. But the silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s just — kind of domestic. Hoseok doesn’t know what that means. He’s been trying hard not to think about it.

Changkyun makes a murmur of acknowledgement, eyes still fixed on his phone as he scrolls. “I know,” he says, “Minhyuk hyung told me.”

Hoseok stretches his leg out across the sofa, prodding the side of Changkyun’s thigh with his toes. It makes Changkyun look up from his phone, and Hoseok smiles to himself in satisfaction. “Yah — what’s Minhyuk doing inviting my husband to parties before me?”

“Shut up,” Changkyun replies, but he’s biting down on a smile. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, my husband?” Hoseok grins. He pokes at Changkyun’s leg with his toes again. “But you  _ are _ my husband.”

Changkyun makes a face. “Hyung,” he whines, “it’s weird.”

There’s a faint pink flush creeping up Changkyun’s neck. Hoseok laughs. “How about ‘hubby’? Or _jagiya?_ _Yeobo?”_

“Aish, hyung!” Changkyun chucks a cushion at Hoseok, which Hoseok catches with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay.” Hoseok tosses the cushion back. “Seriously, though — are you going to go?”

Changkyun hugs the cushion to himself. “Probably,” he says, “Hyunwoo hyung’s nice.”

“He throws chill parties, too,” Hoseok adds. “It’s just a small pool party this year, I think.”

This makes Changkyun laugh. “Small for you guys means like, a hundred people,” he says, and Hoseok has to admit that he’s right. Changkyun shrugs, though, smiling. “But sure — I’m in.”

Hoseok beams. He’s happier to hear that than he’d like to admit. Hanging out with Changkyun is fun, he supposes. The past few weeks of dinners together followed by lazy evenings on the sofa have just been lulling him into a sense of comfort with Changkyun being around.

“Minhyuk hyung invited my friends too.”

Hoseok looks at Changkyun, who’s not quite making eye contact with him. He clears his throat. “What?”

“I think he wants to see Kihyun hyung again,” Changkyun says, smiling to himself. That’s probably true, but also — Kihyun isn’t the only one of Changkyun’s close friends.

“And — Hyungwon?” Hoseok asks. He tries to keep his voice light. Breezy. No big deal. “Is he going too?”

Changkyun glances at Hoseok now. “Yeah,” he says, “is that okay?”

Hoseok forces a smile. “Of course that’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Changkyun replies, vaguely. He’s staring at Hoseok, like he’s trying to figure something out. Hoseok feels his skin crawl under the scrutiny.

“Look, we said that we’re both free to do whatever we want.” He grins at Changkyun. Tension twists in his chest. “That hasn’t changed, right?”

Changkyun nods, slowly. “Right,” he says. “Of course not.”

The air between them hangs heavy, full of unspoken words. Hoseok doesn’t know what those words are, and he doesn’t want to know. He sits up straighter, leans over to smack Changkyun on the shoulder good-naturedly.

“Just don’t make out with him in front of everyone — it’ll look bad if you do!” Hoseok says, loudly, maybe a little  _ too _ loudly. “Find a private spot, okay?”

Changkyun’s cheeks flood suddenly pink. “Hyung!” he cries out, one hand clutching onto his shoulder where Hoseok had smacked him. He looks torn between whining about the smack and whining about Hoseok’s teasing. The latter instinct wins out, in the end. “I don’t — Hyungwon hyung and I — we’re not—”

But Hoseok doesn’t want to hear it, he really doesn’t. “I know,” he says, laughing, “but even if you were, it’s fine. Okay? Don’t worry about it.”

Changkyun presses his lips together. “Okay,” he says, “thanks, hyung.”

“Besides,” Hoseok continues, “Jimin will be there too. And you’re fine with that, right?”

“Right.” Changkyun blinks at Hoseok. “Of course I am.”

There’s a weird tightness to his voice that Hoseok can’t quite decipher. Hoseok coughs uncomfortably. “Cool,” he mumbles, “cool, cool.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hyunwoo’s birthday party is in the late afternoon, when the summer sun is still beating down upon them. Hoseok arrives with Changkyun, heart hammering from the way Changkyun had appeared in front of him in a white t-shirt and swim shorts with pineapples on them that showed off his knobbly knees. It’s not a  _ sexy _ outfit in any sense of the word, but it’s cute and summery and Changkyun had grinned at him so earnestly that Hoseok was pretty sure he was going to burst into flames.

“I’m going to get a drink!” he announces, the second they step onto the hotel’s rooftop terrace where the party is being held. Being too close to Changkyun is starting to slowly drive him insane, and Hoseok can’t even tell if it’s in a good way or not.

He acquires a fruity cocktail, turns back to the pool just in time to see Hyunwoo and Jooheon cannonball in. Changkyun’s sitting on one of the sofas at the far end of the pool, watching and laughing. He looks up, catches Hoseok’s eye, and shoots him a small smile.

_ Fuck, _ Hoseok thinks.  _ He’s so cute. _

And then, breaking him out of his panicked reverie: “Have you seen this?”

Hoseok jumps, turns to see Minhyuk standing all up in his personal space, waving a magazine in his face. His hair is slightly wavy, the way it gets when it’s been left to air-dry. Hoseok wonders if Minhyuk’s already been swimming.

“Have you seen this?” Minhyuk repeats, when Hoseok doesn’t respond. He shoves the magazine at Hoseok.

“What are you talking about?” Hoseok grumbles, because Minhyuk is, as always, being extremely overwhelming. Then he looks at the magazine in his hands.

It’s the latest issue of the publication that had interviewed him and Changkyun. Plastered across the cover page is a picture of the two of them. Possibly the  _ only _ picture of the two of them that wasn’t painfully awkward, the one where their foreheads are pressed together, and Changkyun’s eyes are closed. It looks incredibly intimate. And genuine.

Hoseok grimaces, and shoves the magazine back at Minhyuk. “Have you read the article?”

“Yeah, and it’s boring — our PR team clearly got to review it before it got published.” Minhyuk flips violently through the magazine. “But look at these  _ pictures!” _

Hoseok peers over Minhyuk’s shoulder. “It was a really awkward photoshoot,” he says, as Minhyuk searches for the article. “What about the pictures?”

Minhyuk holds the magazine open for Hoseok. “Yeah, Changkyun looks awkward,” he says, then stabs a finger at Hoseok’s face, printed all glossy and high definition on the page. “But look at you. Look at the way you’re looking at him.”

And Hoseok sees it, instantly. The way his eyes are fixed on Changkyun’s, gaze soft and gentle and  _ fond. _ In every single picture, he’s just staring at Changkyun like he’s desperately in love.

“I — I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hoseok mutters. He snaps the magazine shut.

Minhyuk raises an eyebrow at him. “Hyung,” he starts, and Hoseok can hear it in the suddenly serious tone of his voice — Minhyuk’s about to launch into a lecture. And while Minhyuk is more often than not playful and frivolous, when he wants to be serious he’s unnervingly perceptive.

“Ah, Minhyuk, it’s a party, don’t be a downer,” Hoseok interrupts. He pats Minhyuk on the shoulder. “I’m going for a swim. You should put that aside and come join.”

Minhyuk gives him a look that’s heavy with meaning. Hoseok ignores him, just tugs off his shirt, chucks it onto a nearby sunbed, and leaps into the pool to join Hyunwoo and Jooheon and an assortment of other partygoers. He can still feel Minhyuk staring at him.

“Hyung!” Jooheon flings himself into Hoseok’s arms almost immediately, eyes sparkling. Then he glances around. “Where’s Changkyun?”

He’s sitting with Kihyun on one of the couches under a pergola. Hoseok doesn’t know why he knows this. His attention is just constantly drawn towards Changkyun, even when he isn’t trying to look for him. This realisation makes him squirm with discomfort.

“I don’t know,” he ends up saying, a little sharply, “why would I know?”

“Because he’s your husband?” Jooheon replies, arching an eyebrow. He elbows Hoseok in the ribs. “Has Minhyuk hyung showed you the magazine?”

Hoseok makes a face. “Yes,” he says, “and whatever he’s said to you about it, he’s wrong.”

Jooheon pouts. “You’re being weird,” he says. “Why are you being weird?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hoseok notices Hyungwon walking over to where Changkyun and Kihyun are sitting. He drags his gaze away. Why should he be paying attention to Changkyun anyway?

“I’m not being weird,” he replies, sighing at the look of hurt on Jooheon’s face. “Sorry, Honey. Minhyuk’s just been getting on my nerves.”

Jooheon accepts the apology with grace, and his pout fades quickly into a bright smile. Hyunwoo comes up to join them, beaming happily, his eyes crinkling up into crescents. Hoseok wishes him happy birthday, and Hyunwoo slings one arm around his shoulders.

“How are you doing?” Hyunwoo asks, as Jooheon paddles away to find his own friends.

Hoseok shrugs. “Fine,” he replies, “why?”

Hyunwoo offers a sheepish smile. At least he looks apologetic. “I saw the pictures in the magazine.”

“Ah, this Lee Minhyuk—” Hoseok glares over at where Minhyuk is chatting animatedly to a girl Hoseok doesn’t recognise. Minhyuk doesn’t even notice the death glares Hoseok is sending in his direction, and so Hoseok gives up and turns back to Hyunwoo. “Not you too.”

“Minhyuk can be a little — dramatic,” Hyunwoo concedes, chuckling to himself, and that’s the understatement of the century, but it makes Hoseok sigh and laugh. He pulls himself out of the pool, sits on the edge with his legs in the water. Hyunwoo props his arms on the edge, looks up at Hoseok. “But he’s not completely wrong.”

Hoseok stretches his legs out, kicks his feet along the surface of the water. “I guess,” he says, “I don’t know.”

“You look at him differently now, you know.” Hyunwoo turns, glances over at Changkyun. “You seem — less angry.”

Hoseok follows Hyunwoo’s gaze. Kihyun’s getting up, leaving Changkyun and Hyungwon alone. The two of them are sitting on the couch, so close that their knees are touching. Something twists, searing hot, in Hoseok’s chest.

To Hyunwoo, he says, “Isn’t less angry good?”

“Yes — but also, there’s something else.” Hyunwoo nudges Hoseok’s thigh with his elbow, drawing his attention back away from Changkyun. “Do you —  _ like him?” _

Hoseok swallows tightly. His throat has gone desert dry. “No,” he says, sharply. “No, of course not.”

Hyunwoo makes a murmur of acknowledgement, but the look on his face suggests he’s not quite convinced. But then he spots Jinyoung and Jaebeom wandering into the party, and he can’t continue interrogating Hoseok because he’s swimming off to go be a good host and welcome his friends. Hoseok stays sitting on the edge of the pool. He leans back on his hands, tips his head back. Changkyun is still talking to Hyungwon, but Hoseok tells himself that he doesn’t care. The sunshine is warm on his face.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hyungwon watches as Hoseok pulls himself out of the water, perches on the edge of the pool. His abs are frighteningly well-defined, and even Hyungwon has to admit he’s a very attractive man. 

“You seem to be getting along with him quite well,” he says, as neutrally as he can manage. Changkyun, who had obviously been looking over at Hoseok, tears his gaze away and blinks up at Hyungwon.

“What?”

Hyungwon bumps into Changkyun’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t be coy,” he says, “you know who I mean.”

The faintest pink of a blush creeps up Changkyun’s neck. He shrugs half-heartedly. “I guess,” he replies. “He’s nice. Easy to talk to.”

_ I'm nice too,  _ Hyungwon thinks. And easy to talk to. Surely no one’s easier to talk to than your best friend of almost a decade.

He doesn’t say this, even though he wants to.

But he’s been so cowardly for so long, that maybe it’s time to step up a little. He thinks about what Kihyun had said to him, and he hates to admit it, but maybe Kihyun has a point. If he’s not happy with the way things are, why not try to do something about it?

So, what he says, instead: “Do you like him?”

Changkyun’s eyes widen, almost comically, except that Hyungwon’s heart is hammering too rapidly against his ribcage for anything to seem funny. He can barely blink, eyes fixed steadily on Changkyun as he waits.

“No,” says Changkyun, finally. “Of course not. Not in that way, at least.”

Hyungwon feels the aching compression in his chest release, just slightly. He hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but still he feels drunk, like he’s watching himself from outside his own body. When he speaks, his voice doesn’t sound like his own.

“Do you like anyone else?”

Changkyun stares up at him. His lips part slightly in surprise. Hyungwon’s gaze flicks down to his mouth, before he even realises what he’s doing. They’ve been here before, he thinks. So many times before. Teetering at the edge of  _ something else,  _ just waiting for someone to chicken out and blink. __

(Someone always blinks.)

“Hyung—” Changkyun says, quietly, more like an exhale.

It’s too much. Panic floods Hyungwon’s veins, and he rips his gaze away. A tight laugh escapes him. “You can tell me, if you like someone, you know,” he says, loudly, far too loudly. “Hyung will always be here for you.”

Changkyun sighs, and looks away. He nods mutely.

(Hyungwon always blinks.)

Across the pool, Hyungwon sees the petite man with the ashy grey hair, smiling and waving to Hoseok. Jimin, he thinks his name is. He glances at Changkyun, and he can see Changkyun watching as well, as Hoseok hops out of the pool and drags Jimin in for a hug. Hoseok’s still slightly wet from being in the pool, and the hug leaves wet patches on Jimin’s shirt. Jimin laughs and smacks Hoseok on the arm.

“Isn’t that his booty call?” Hyungwon asks.

Changkyun doesn’t take his eyes off them. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s Jimin.”

Hyungwon turns to Changkyun, studies his side profile carefully, trying to decipher the meaning of the look on his face. No luck — Changkyun is hard to read.

“Is he allowed to, you know?” Hyungwon asks, vaguely. “Are you both—”

“Yes,” Changkyun replies, interrupting. He exhales heavily, shifts his gaze back to Hyungwon. “As long as we keep it discreet, we can do whatever we want.”

Hyungwon wonders what Changkyun wants. And whether it’s the same thing as what he wants. Maybe it’s time for him to jump off the cliff, no blinking.

“Changkyun-ah,” he starts.

And then Minhyuk comes crashing into them, flopping down onto the couch next to Changkyun. Behind him, Jooheon casts Hyungwon an immensely apologetic look. Hyungwon sighs. Maybe that’s the universe giving him a sign.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Minhyuk drags Changkyun off almost instantly, leaving Jooheon with Hyungwon under the pergola. It should be weird, because the two of them are connected only in the most tenuous of ways, but it’s not. Hyungwon leans back on his hands as he watches Changkyun stumble along after Minhyuk.

Hyungwon feels like he’s been  _ watching, _ his entire life. Just a spectator, while everyone else lives out the movie of their lives as the main characters.

“You like him, don’t you?”

Hyungwon had almost managed to forget that Jooheon was still there, right next to him, and he startles to be suddenly spoken to. “I — excuse me?”

Jooheon flushes pink, and it’s amazing how quickly his cheeks colour. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “that was a little impertinent, wasn’t it? I just thought — you looked like maybe you could use someone to talk to.”

Hyungwon doesn’t know what’s come into him. Maybe he’s having sunstroke. But whatever it is, it seems like today is turning out to be a day where he throws all caution to the wind. “Am I that obvious?” he asks, huffing out a sigh of defeat. 

“Maybe I’m just perceptive,” Jooheon replies, smiling again now that Hyungwon doesn’t seem angry at his probing question. He has a nice smile, Hyungwon thinks — open, and genuine, and his cheeks dimple softly. “Or maybe I know what it’s like to pine after your best friend.”

This makes Hyungwon raise an eyebrow. “Oh?” he asks. “Are you in love with Hoseok-ssi?”

Jooheon coughs so hard in surprise that Hyungwon’s half-afraid that he’s choking. But then Jooheon’s shaking his head frantically and crying out, “No, of course not!” and suddenly Hyungwon finds himself laughing. He’s not sure why this is funny but it is.

His laughter earns him a pout from Jooheon. Hyungwon bites down on his giggles, and schools his face into an expression of neutrality. “Sorry, I was just wondering,” he says, full of faux-gravitas. “Who is it, then?”

Jooheon gives Hyungwon a sideways glance, eyes narrowed but also like he’s suppressing a smile. “Minhyuk hyung,” he says, finally. “But that’s all in the past.”

Hyungwon looks over to where Minhyuk seems to have cornered Kihyun by a potted palm tree. “Minhyuk-ssi?” he repeats, nodding his head over. “That guy?”

“Yes, well, he was always really nice to me and I fall in love easily,” Jooheon says. He gives Hyungwon a light, playful nudge. “Don’t tease me or I won’t tell you my wise advice!”

Hyungwon smirks. “Of course, of course,” he replies, with exaggerated seriousness. “What is this wise advice of yours?”

Jooheon turns, and looks directly at Hyungwon. The eye contact is so sudden and unexpected, that Hyungwon feels a jolt of surprise in his gut. 

“Tell him,” Jooheon says, without prelude. “You should tell him.”

Hyungwon can’t bring himself to look away. “I can’t,” he mumbles, “what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if it ruins our friendship?”

“It won’t — you guys seem close enough that it won’t,” Jooheon says. He looks away, back at Minhyuk. “The longer I held onto my crush on Minhyuk hyung, the bigger it got — like, it took on a life of its own. By the end, I wasn’t even sure if I actually liked him, or just the idea of him I had built up in my head.”

Hyungwon is still staring at Jooheon. He isn’t sure why Jooheon is telling him all of this. “Did you tell him?” he asks.

“I did,” Jooheon replies. “And he didn’t feel the same way about me.”

Hyungwon feels the sting in his chest, even though this has nothing to do with him. “I’m sorry.”

When Jooheon turns to him, he’s smiling, oddly enough. “Don’t be,” he says. “The weird thing is — after I told him, and he rejected me, I got over him far more quickly than I would have expected. It was like, once I’d put it out there, it wasn’t consuming all of me, and I could just let it go.”

Hyungwon laughs. “Are you telling me to confess so that I can get the rejection over and done with?”

“Maybe.” Jooheon grins at Hyungwon. “Rip it off like a band-aid, you know?”

Hyungwon quirks a small smile, nodding. “I guess,” he says. Jooheon’s making a surprising amount of sense. “Why are you telling me this, though?”

Jooheon shrugs. His eyes sparkle when he smiles. “I thought you could use some real talk from someone who’s gone through a similar thing,” he says. “We’re the ones who pine — and we have to stick together!”

Despite himself, and despite how much his chest aches, Hyungwon can’t help but laugh.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Minhyuk hyung, what are you doing?” Changkyun stumbles after Minhyuk, frankly bewildered at what’s going on. He had been in the middle of an oddly emotionally intense conversation with Hyungwon, and it felt like it had been heading somewhere, and he’s a little annoyed at the interruption. But Minhyuk’s exuberant energy is hard to stay too annoyed at.

“Just having a stroll!” Minhyuk cries out, and then he’s dragging Changkyun to the far corner of the rooftop terrace, where luxurious sofas and sunbeds are scattered by the glass railing. There are various partygoers lounging around, narrow champagne flutes in hand, but what catches Changkyun’s eye is the stunning view of the city laid out before them. In the distance he can see the Han River, glistening silver as it courses through the city.

Changkyun blinks at the view in awe. “Oh, wow,” he says, “is that what you wanted to show me?”

Minhyuk glances over to the view, like he’s surprised to see it there. “Uh, yeah,” he says, “sure. Of course.” And then he’s releasing Changkyun’s arm, and waving excitedly across the terrace. “Oh look, it’s Hoseok hyung! Let’s go say hello!”

Changkyun realises almost immediately what Minhyuk’s ulterior motive had been, but it’s too late. Hoseok’s looking up, and, on the sofa across from him, Jimin is turning and looking over in their direction. 

“Let’s go join them, come on,” Minhyuk says to Changkyun, tugging on his arm and leading him over. Changkyun follows mutely, not happy about this situation at all. If his fake husband wants to talk privately to his secret lover, who is he to go interrupt them?

But Minhyuk’s not one to take no for an answer, so Changkyun’s finding himself shoved onto the sofa next to Hoseok, forced to smile warmly at the man his husband — sorry,  _ fake _ husband — is apparently fucking.

"Minhyuk," Hoseok says, the warning evident in his tone. "What are you doing?"

Looking utterly unfazed by Hoseok's death glare, Minhyuk just beams and replies, "Just coming to say hello!" Then he pauses, glances between Hoseok and Jimin with exaggerated surprise. "We're not  _ interrupting  _ anything, are we?"

Jimin suppresses a tinkling giggle behind one hand. His eyes sparkle prettily, and Changkyun can't help but feel woefully  _ ordinary _ in his presence. "No," Jimin says, and his voice is sweet like honey and angelic on top of that. "Of course you're not. In fact, I think Hoseok hyung is  _ glad  _ to see you."

At this, Jimin winks at Changkyun, and it's so unexpected and inexplicable that Changkyun doesn't know how to respond. Not to mention the fact that Jimin is one of the most attractive people in Changkyun's life to have winked at him, and he's feeling a little flustered by it.

"Yah, Park Jimin," snaps Hoseok suddenly. He seems to be warning Jimin of something, but Changkyun can't tell what. In any case, it doesn't work, because Jimin just laughs as he brushes one hand through his silvery grey locks.

Minhyuk, meanwhile, looks inordinately pleased with himself. "Well, this has been fun," he announces, leaping to his feet, "but I think I hear someone calling me."

"No one's calling you," Hoseok says sharply. Jimin just laughs even harder, and Changkyun's really confused. He stares blankly as Minhyuk waves at them in goodbye.

"What's going on?" Changkyun asks, when Minhyuk's left. He gets the distinct sense that there's a separate conversation happening in the undercurrent, one that he's not privy to.

Jimin just smiles sweetly at him, impossibly charming. "Nothing," he replies, then extends one across the low table between them for Changkyun to shake. "I don't think we've been properly introduced — I'm Jimin." 

"I know," Changkyun says, without thinking, then immediately kicks himself mentally for it. Is it weird, to acknowledge that you know your husband's side piece? And is it more or less weird if said husband is a fake husband?

Jimin, thankfully or otherwise, doesn't seem to find this weird. He just tilts his head at Changkyun, a knowing smirk toying at his lips. "So, tell me," he says, dragging his words out slowly, eyes flicking over to Hoseok, "how's being married to Hoseok hyung?"

"It's, um — good." Changkyun doesn't really know what to say. "Hoseok hyung is very nice."

The smirk on Jimin's face widens. "He is, isn't it?" As he says this, he casts Hoseok a look that Changkyun catches but can't understand. Something crackles between them. Changkyun feels his jaw clenching before he even realises he's doing it. Which is ridiculous, because what the hell is he even getting wound up about? His fake husband flirting with his real lover? That's none of Changkyun's business.

So he just falls silent, slumps a little more into his seat. He wants to leave, but he doesn't know how to do it without being rude. Or awkward. He doesn't care so much about being rude.

In any case, Jimin is laughing his stupidly pretty tinkling laugh and excusing himself, so Changkyun's missed his chance to escape. He isn't displeased, though, that he doesn't have to leave Hoseok and Jimin alone. And that's not really a feeling he wants to examine right now.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"You've been meddling."

Minhyuk startles, whipping round to see Kihyun standing behind him, one eyebrow quirked. He clears his throat and straightens up from where he'd been crouched behind the fronds of a potted palm, spying on Hoseok and Changkyun.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Minhyuk replies flatly. His gaze flicks back to the source of his attention. Jimin is laughing and Hoseok is scowling and Changkyun doesn't look too happy either. Perfect. Step one, make everyone realise that they're not satisfied with the way things are. Step two, watch his cousin fall in love. He turns back to Kihyun, beaming.

"You're obviously up to something," Kihyun says, but it doesn't sound accusatory, just amused. "Where were you dragging Changkyun off to?"

Minhyuk hums and shrugs. He steps closer to Kihyun and waggles his eyebrows. "Are you, perhaps, god forbid,  _ paying attention  _ to me?"

Kihyun's lips part slightly in surprise, then his brow furrows and his mouth thins into a line. It's attractive, Minhyuk thinks, when Kihyun's annoyed. It makes Minhyuk want to annoy him more. 

"Don't flatter yourself," Kihyun replies sharply, once he's regained his composure. 

"It's okay," Minhyuk continues breezily, as if Kihyun hadn't spoken, "I know I'm hard to ignore."

Kihyun quirks an eyebrow. "If that's true it's only because you're so obnoxiously loud."

"Go on a date with me," Minhyuk replies, cocking his head at Kihyun, "and I'll show you just how loud I can be."

The expression on Kihyun's face barely shifts — just a slight furrow of his brow — but a deliciously pink colour creeps up from the collar of his shirt. Minhyuk bites down on a smile. It's not becoming to look overly smug.

So he settles for giving Kihyun a light nudge with his shoulder. Kihyun glares at him.

"I mean it," Minhyuk says, "Go on a date with me."

Kihyun's eyes narrow. "No."

Minhyuk, never one to take no for an answer, nudges Kihyun again. "Why not? What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could be on a date with you," shoots back Kihyun without missing a beat. 

Minhyuk laughs, throwing his head back. He doesn't quite get why he's so determined to crack Kihyun, but there's just something intriguing about this man who refuses to give him even the slightest hint of a smile.

"I won't stop asking," Minhyuk warns, raising an eyebrow. "I'm  _ very  _ persistent."

"And I'm very stubborn." Kihyun tilts his chin upwards in mild defiance. "I won't stop saying no."

Minhyuk can feel the smile spreading across his face. He loves a good challenge.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hoseok watches with mixed feelings of relief and panic as Jimin leaves. He's glad to be spared the implicit teasing, but there's also a tense atmosphere between him and Changkyun and he's not sure what to do about it. Next to him, Changkyun fidgets, gaze wandering idly out across the pool area.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hoseok asks, finally, lamely. He's suddenly acutely aware of the weight of his tongue in his mouth.

Changkyun glances at him. "Uh," he says, "yeah. I guess."

Hoseok bets the conversation hadn't been this stilted when Changkyun had been talking to Hyungwon earlier. His mind drifts back to the image of Changkyun, eyes sparkling as he looks up at Hyungwon, cheeks rounded as he laughs, light-hearted and perfectly himself. It puts a bitter taste in his mouth.

"How's Hyungwon?" he asks. It feels like twisting the knife in his own wound, and he takes a peverse sort of masochistic delight in it.

Changkyun's face is unreadable. He leans back on his hands. "Same as always," he says cryptically. Hoseok can't tell what this means, can't even tell if it's a good thing or a bad thing. Can't even tell how Changkyun feels about it.

Hoseok picks up his glass from the low table in front of him, knocks back the last of the champagne bubbling in there. Fortune favours the brave.

"You like him," he says. It's not a question.

Changkyun's gaze whips up to him. There's surprise in his eyes, but it's not disapproving. It's maybe even a little bit impressed. 

"I did," Changkyun replies, picking his words carefully. His gaze flicks back out towards the pool area, where Hyungwon is standing by the bar with Kihyun.

Hoseok watches Changkyun. Studies the elegant slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw. Realisation crashes into him. 

"And now?" Hoseok asks, with just as much caution.

Changkyun turns back to look at him. Electricity leaps between them when their eyes meet. "Now," Changkyun repeats, dragging the word out, considering it. He exhales slowly. "Now, I'm not so sure."

Hoseok holds his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost halfway there! tbh I don't really like this chapter that much but, as the title suggests, it's sort of an interlude between bigger developments. I'll try and update again soon! hope everyone is staying safe x
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


	10. The Reunion

Changkyun pulls the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands. The weather is getting cooler, and though the days are still warm, the nights are chilly. 

There's been something playing on his mind for a few weeks now. He pulls the door of his studio open, pokes his head out, and listens. The TV is on, softly playing what sounds like a cooking show. Hoseok's taken to spending quite a lot of time in the penthouse, and not just holed up in his room either. 

Changkyun shuffles down the corridor into the living room. Hoseok's curled up beneath a blanket on the sofa, entranced by the TV, where a lady with shocking red hair is icing an extravagantly large cake. 

"What are you watching?" 

Hoseok startles, whips his head round to look at Changkyun. It's in moments like these that Changkyun realises how much Hoseok is nothing like the bad boy image the public has of him. His eyes are wide, lips parted in surprise, dark hair ruffled up and unstyled. The sight of him tugs at something in Changkyun's chest.

"Bake-off re-runs," Hoseok replies, once he's gotten over his surprise. He shuffles over on the sofa to make space for Changkyun.

Changkyun flops onto the sofa obligingly, tries to watch the show with Hoseok. But something about his body language must give him away, because Hoseok puts the TV on mute and shifts so he's facing Changkyun. Clearing his throat, Changkyun reluctantly turns to look at Hoseok.

"What?" Changkyun asks feebly.

Hoseok frowns at him. "What's up with you?" he asks. "You have that look on your face."

Changkyun tries to straighten out his expression. "What look?"

"You know, that look." Hoseok furrows his brow slightly and turns his lips downwards in a remarkably accurate impression of Changkyun. "The one you get when you're over-thinking something."

Changkyun grimaces. Maybe he's let Hoseok get to know him too well. But no time to think about that now. 

"I was thinking about Chuseok," he says, letting the end of his sentence dangle. Hoseok tilts his head at him, waiting for the rest of the thought. Changkyun chews on the inside of his cheek. "What are you doing for Chuseok?"

"Going to Grandma's, probably," Hoseok replies, shrugging. He casts Changkyun a sideways look. "Why? What are you doing?"

Changkyun presses his lips together. "My parents told me I couldn't go to Gwangju because they're going away for Chuseok," he explains, "and I just — I thought maybe I could spend Chuseok with your family."

Hoseok blinks. "Uh," he starts. "Of course."

But Changkyun knows Hoseok well enough by now to tell that he doesn't quite mean it. "It's fine, you don't have to say yes, I can hang out by myself," he says quickly. "Or maybe I'll go back to Gwangju with Hyungwon—"

"No!" Hoseok shouts, and it's so abrupt that both of them startle. Hoseok coughs, and rubs the back of his neck. "I mean — don't go back to Gwangju. Just — stay in Seoul, okay?"

Changkyun gives Hoseok a look, but doesn't say anything.

"I'll check if you can come over for Chuseok," Hoseok says, clearly hedging, "but don't — don't mention it to Grandma, okay?"

That's code for 'I don't want you at Chuseok but if my grandmother hears about it she'll insist you join us'. Changkyun isn't an idiot. But he's also not so shameless as to insist on crashing a family gathering that he doesn't belong at.

"Sure," he says, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He forces a smile.

Hoseok reaches over, places one hand on Changkyun's knee. "Come to dinner with me, the day before?"

It's a consolation prize, and if Changkyun had more pride, or maybe any sort of ability to turn Hoseok down, he might have said no. But, as it is, he wants this.

"Yeah," he says. Hoseok's hand feels warm on his knee. "Okay."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Changkyun changes shirt four times before finally forcing himself to stop fussing about in the mirror. It’s not like he’s never had dinner with Hoseok before — they eat together, at the dining table or on the sofa in front of the TV, almost every day now. But this time they’re going  _ out _ for dinner. To a fancy restaurant. It’s almost like — it’s as if they’re going on a  _ date. _

It shouldn’t make Changkyun this nervous, going on a maybe-date with his fake-husband. But the truth is, the lines between real and fake are starting to get blurred, and Changkyun isn’t sure what is what anymore. All he knows is that he likes spending time with Hoseok, and he wants Hoseok to like spending time with him too.

He steps out of the car, thanking the Shin family driver. Hoseok had insisted on them going to the restaurant separately, saying that he had something to take care of before meeting Changkyun. Which means Changkyun’s left to walk into the restaurant by himself, hesitantly offering Hoseok’s name to the host at the door.

“Ah, Mister Shin’s party — of course, they’re already here,” the host says, smiling brightly and gesturing for Changkyun to follow her. “Right this way, sir.”

Changkyun frowns, but falls into step behind the host.  _ They’re already here?  _ Changkyun doesn’t think he misheard her, but that means — who is  _ they? _

Then the host opens the door to a private room, one with a stunning view of Seoul’s skyline, but that’s not what makes Changkyun gasp.

“Mom! Dad!” Changkyun can’t help the shocked exclamation that escapes him. His parents are sitting right there, in front of him, laughing and getting to their feet and wrapping Changkyun in their arms. The host smiles kindly, backing out of the room and shutting the door behind her as she leaves.

“My beautiful boy,” Changkyun’s mom murmurs, hands pressed into his cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”

Changkyun blinks at her. His dad chuckles claps him on the back. “Surprised, son?”

“Yeah — I thought you guys were meant to be on holiday!” 

“All a trick, just to surprise you.” Changkyun’s mom giggles, looking utterly delighted. Changkyun’s shock finally starts to settle, and that’s when he finally realises that Hoseok is also in the room with them, standing apart, smiling fondly over at the Im family reunion.

Changkyun looks over at Hoseok. His heart is hammering a tattoo against his ribs. “You — did you do this?”

Hoseok nods sheepishly. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “I thought — you hadn’t seen your parents in so long, I wanted to surprise you—”

Changkyun’s mother nudges him. “Go on,” she says, beaming at him, “say thank you.”

There’s a strange undercurrent to her tone that Changkyun can’t quite decipher. He scrunches up his nose at her, but shuffles towards Hoseok obediently. “Uh,” he starts, suddenly awkward. His hands are shoved firmly into the pockets of his jeans, and he can’t quite bring himself to meet Hoseok’s gaze. “Thanks, hyung.” 

When he finally looks up, Hoseok is smiling at him in that silly, goofy way. His eyes are folded into crescents, and they sparkle like stars. “That’s okay,” he says, gently, “I’m just glad you’re happy.”

Changkyun has to bite down on his lower lip to control the grin that’s threatening to spread across his face. He doesn’t stop feeling all fluttery inside, even as Hoseok apologises and says he has to leave, while his parents urge Hoseok to stay and have dinner with them. But Hoseok has to go to his grandma’s house, and in the end they all bid him farewell, and Changkyun’s mom gives him a tight hug before he goes.

They talk about how Changkyun is doing, about his music, about Hyungwon and Kihyun — touching on everything except the one thing that Changkyun’s mom is clearly itching to talk about. It’s just as the fish course is brought out that she finally breaks, and blurts out, “So, that Hoseok boy is sweet, isn’t he?”

Changkyun sighs. “Mom,” he whines, “don’t.”

His mother tuts at him. “Don’t  _ what?” _ she asks, feigning innocence. “He planned all of this weeks ago, put us up in a nice apartment, paid for our train tickets and everything — just to put a smile on your face. If that isn’t sweet I don’t know what is.”

“He seems like a good guy,” Changkyun’s father agrees. His tone is neutral, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells Changkyun he’s enjoying this more than he’s letting on.

“If he is or isn’t, that’s not really any of my business,” Changkyun replies. “You do know we’re not  _ actually _ married, right?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Changkyun’s mom says, not sounding like she’s taking that seriously at all. She waves one hand in the air dismissively. “But just because a marriage is fake, doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t real.”

Changkyun’s heart leaps into his throat. Isn’t that exactly what he’s been struggling to come to terms with for weeks now? The fact that there’s definitely  _ something _ growing between him and Hoseok, whatever the circumstances of their marriage were to begin with.

But now is not the time. Changkyun swallows tightly. “You’re talking as if you have a lot of experience with fake marriages,” he says, trying to keep his tone teasing. He picks up a mushroom with his chopsticks, pops it whole into his mouth.

Changkyun’s father just laughs. “Your mother has watched a lot of dramas,” he says, with mock seriousness, “which makes her an expert in fake marriages — as well as long-lost siblings, not to mention amnesia.” This earns him a smack on the arm from his wife, which makes Changkyun giggle. The conversation moves on, thankfully — but Changkyun’s thoughts, they linger.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Changkyun ends up deciding to stay with his parents for the night, and though Hoseok isn’t surprised, he still can’t help being a little disappointed. He wants to see Changkyun’s face, lit up with happiness. Wants to hear him chatter on excitedly about his time with his parents. Just — wants Changkyun around.

But he’s going to have to wait. Changkyun still isn’t back home by the time Hoseok has to set off for his grandma’s house the next morning, where he’s going to be all day. A day that begins with him and Minhyuk preparing  _ songpyeon,  _ which is insane in and of itself because of how easily it can be bought from the shop, but it’s tradition — the two cousins have spent every Chuseok morning as far back as they can remember huddled together, filling misshapen balls of dough and kneading them into silly shapes.

Minhyuk kicks at Hoseok under the table, which draws a scowl from Hoseok. Minhyuk ignores it. “Why isn’t Changkyun here?”

Hoseok inspects the  _ songpyeon  _ he’s finished making. It’s meant to be a flower, but it looks a little lumpy. He sets it down on the plate with the others anyway. In response to Minhyuk, he simply says, “He’s with his parents.”

Minhyuk hums thoughtfully. “That’s a shame, it would have been nice to have him here. Bet he’d have made nicer  _ songpyeon  _ than you, with your fat fingers.”

Hoseok decides not to dignify this with a response. It doesn’t stop Minhyuk from chattering on. 

“Where’s Changkyun from, again? Is it Gwangju?”

“Mm.” Hoseok tries to focus on the dough in his hands. “He’s in Seoul, though. His parents are here.”

“Yeah? How come?”

Hoseok shrugs. He pinches at the half-formed  _ songpyeon  _ in his hands. Maybe he’ll make a rabbit. “I brought them here,” he mumbles, “to surprise Changkyun.” He chews on his bottom lip. “Hey, does this look like a rabbit?”

When Hoseok looks up, Minhyuk has a look of utter glee on his face. “You  _ brought his parents to Seoul?”  _ he gasps, clapping flour-covered hands to his cheeks. “To  _ surprise him?” _

Hoseok makes a face. “Don’t make a fuss,” he grumbles. “Here, look at this — does it look like a rabbit?”

“I’m not making a fuss!” screeches Minhyuk, making an enormous fuss. He beams devilishly. “You’re  _ so  _ whipped.”

“I am  _ not _ whipped,” snaps Hoseok. He brandishes his rabbit  _ songpyeon  _ at Minhyuk. “Will you look at this—”

“Oh my god, shut up about your rabbit,” Minhyuk shoots back. “I can’t believe you did that for him.”

Hoseok puts his rabbit  _ songpyeon  _ down. “It’s really not a big deal,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I just thought it would make him happy.”

Minhyuk quirks one eyebrow. “Like you thought converting your spare bedroom into a music studio would make him happy,” he says. It doesn’t sound like a question.

“Yeah, I guess,” Hoseok replies. He fixes Minhyuk with his best glare. “What’s your point?”

Minhyuk heaves an exaggerated sigh, like he’s been terribly put upon. “My point is,” he says, sharply, emphasising each syllable, “you  _ like _ him.”

Hoseok freezes. Then he coughs. “What?” 

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “You  _ like _ Changkyun,” he repeats. “This cannot possibly be news to you.”

“I do  _ not _ like him,” Hoseok replies, almost instinctively. As the words leave his mouth, he realises that even he doesn’t quite believe it.

The realisation must be written all over his face, because Minhyuk’s grin widens and he lets out a shout of triumphant laughter. “You’re an idiot,” Minhyuk declares. “I can’t believe you’ve been wooing this guy without even knowing that you liked him. It’s no wonder you’re getting nowhere.”

“I don’t like him,” Hoseok says again, but his voice is feeble this time, lacking in any conviction. He grimaces. 

And then something clicks. He frowns at Minhyuk. “What do you mean, I’m  _ getting nowhere?” _

Minhyuk just scoffs, and laughs.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Changkyun folds his blanket around himself more tightly. Steam swirls like must from the mug of hot chocolate in his hands. He's out on the terrace of the penthouse, looking out at what he can see of Seoul and the night sky — and maybe waiting for Hoseok to get home. 

His mother had, mercifully, managed to restrain herself from interrogating Changkyun about Hoseok all day. Though maybe that wasn't the most merciful thing, because all it did was to make Changkyun realise how much he constantly  _ wanted  _ to talk about Hoseok. It seemed like everything reminded him of Hoseok these days — if it wasn't "Hoseok likes this dish too" it was "there's this new show Hoseok recommended" or "this reminds me of the time Hoseok". And Changkyun's mother would give him a knowing smile through it all, which was maybe even worse than her mentioning it directly. Because it meant that he was being  _ so obvious _ that there was no need to say anything about it.

He sips at his hot chocolate pensively. This is dangerous — he and Hoseok are still locked in a charade, after all. No matter how  _ real  _ some things seem, at the end of the day, they're still playing pretend.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?"

Changkyun looks up. He hadn't even heard Hoseok arriving home, and now he's standing right there, still in his coat, cheeks slightly pink from the cold, and Changkyun's heart does a tiny flip in his chest.

"Just thinking," Changkyun says evasively. He stares firmly out at the night sky, trying not to stare at Hoseok. Even as he senses Hoseok walking towards him, and taking a seat next to him on the bench. Hoseok is looking at him. Changkyun brings his mug to his lips and takes a long drink.

"Did you have a nice day?"

It's not fair, really. It's not fair how Hoseok can make him feel so off-balance, so easily. 

"Yeah, really nice," Changkyun replies. He turns to glance at Hoseok. "You?"

"Me too." Hoseok chews on his lower lip. "Sorry we didn't get to spend it together," he adds, "I had already planned to bring your parents up, I didn't think you'd want to spend it with me—"

"No, that's—" Changkyun starts, then breaks off. "I mean, don't apologise. Thank you for doing this for me."

The hesitant, faintly worried expression on Hoseok's face morphs almost instantaneously into a brilliant grin. "Okay, good," he says, and it's so innocent and genuine that it tugs at Changkyun. "Maybe — maybe next year?"

The air is bitingly cold, but warmth radiates outwards from deep inside Changkyun's core.  _ Next year. _ That's past the expiry date of their fake marriage — and maybe that fact has just slipped Hoseok's mind. But maybe Hoseok knows exactly what he's saying. Maybe he's suggesting that he wants Changkyun to stick around.

And Changkyun doesn't even dare to think about it, but perhaps he'd like to stick around as well.

"Yeah," Changkyun says, trying to keep his voice light. He sets his mug down on the armrest, balances it gingerly, pulls the blanket up around his shoulders. "Next year." 

Silence falls around them, soft and barely noticeable, like the first snow. Changkyun doesn't know what to say, but doesn't think he needs to say anything. There's something peaceful about being around Hoseok. Changkyun's heart soars and hammers all at the same time. He can feel the warmth of Hoseok next to him, can hear the slow inhale and exhale of his breathing.

Finally giving in to the urge that's been tugging at his chest ever since Hoseok arrived, Changkyun turns his head, chin tilted to one side. Only to see that Hoseok is already looking at him, openly fond like he wasn't expecting to be caught staring. 

Hoseok blinks in surprise, but doesn't look away. Changkyun realises suddenly just how close they are. He can see the individual lashes curtaining Hoseok's eyes, can even make out the barely-there freckles peppering his nose.

His eyes drop, unbidden, to Hoseok's lips. Cherry red and plump, begging to be kissed. Changkyun's blood courses through his ears, thundering, deafening, in the silence. He wants to kiss Hoseok, he realises.  _ He wants to kiss him.  _

Hoseok's gaze flicks to his mouth as well — Changkyun sees the split second of hesitation — and then his lips part, ever so slightly. And he maybe whispers, "Changkyun," or maybe he doesn't, Changkyun is so utterly drunk on this feeling that he thinks he's lost all sense of reality. 

"I — hyung." Changkyun can feel himself being drawn in like a magnet. He can't seem to take in a breath.

Hoseok's eyes flutter closed. There are sirens going off in Changkyun's brain. Time seems to have slowed to stillness.

And then — a crash. Changkyun jerks away from Hoseok, who jumps, eyes flying open. 

Changkyun turns in confusion, then sees his mug of hot chocolate, smashed on the stone floor of the terrace. Knocked over by his own clumsiness. No one to blame but himself. He glares at the shards of ceramic anyway, shifting to go and clean up the mess he'd made.

"It's fine, leave it," Hoseok says. When Changkyun turns to him, he shrugs. "We can tidy it up later. Just — let's just sit? For a bit?"

It sounds like a question. The spell has been broken, but Hoseok doesn't seem to want to let the moment fizzle out entirely. And Changkyun is finding that he's feeling the same way. 

So he settles back into his seat, blanket thrown over both of them. Hoseok hesitates, then puts one arm around him. He doesn't mention it, and so neither does Changkyun. But Changkyun knows his heart is thumping against his ribcage. He leans into Hoseok, lets himself enjoy the steady heat of Hoseok's body.

"I'm glad you're here," Hoseok says, suddenly, without prelude. Changkyun isn't sure how long they've been sitting out there, on that tiny bench, curled up against each other, not saying a word. But it feels like it's the only place Changkyun wants to be. Hoseok's hand on Changkyun's shoulder tightens ever so slightly. 

Changkyun murmurs in assent. He lets himself sink into Hoseok's embrace. In an odd sort of way, it feels like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [#blacklivesmatter](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)
> 
> hope everyone is staying safe. fight for change while taking care of yourself and each other. hope the update brings a little brightness into your day. sending love.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


	11. The Sleepover

Hoseok could kick himself. He'd  _ wanted  _ to kiss Changkyun, that night on the terrace. And it seemed like Changkyun had wanted to as well — unless that was just Hoseok's wishful thinking? In any case it had felt like they were on the cusp of  _ something,  _ something Hoseok can't quite name but that he knows with utmost certainty that he longs for. And yet Hoseok had chickened out, had let the moment dissipate when Changkyun knocked the mug over, and ended up settling for a cuddle.

Not that the cuddle wasn't  _ nice.  _ It was extremely nice, and Changkyun had smelled faintly of fresh linen and pine, and he had been warm and soft pressed up against Hoseok, and the main problem is that Hoseok now wants  _ more.  _ Now he sits across the table from Changkyun, spooning soup into his mouth, and all he can focus on is how much he wants to reach over and take Changkyun's hand in his own. Maybe lean into him, press his face into Changkyun's neck and breathe him in.

Which is a problem. Because they're not really married — they're  _ friends _ at best. And that's something that Hoseok really, really needs to keep telling himself. He's very much in danger of forgetting.

"Hyung? Hyung, did you hear what I said?"

Hoseok blinks. Changkyun has his brow furrowed, peering across the table at him. (This is another problem — Hoseok spacing out mid-conversation as he daydreams about how nice it would be to cuddle Changkyun in a distinctly not platonic sort of way.)

"Uh." Hoseok forces a smile. "Sorry, I was — thinking."  _ Smooth.  _ He grimaces. "What's up?"

Changkyun arches one eyebrow at him but doesn't ask any questions. "I said, the water's out in my old flat and the landlord said it'll take a few days to fix." 

Hoseok tilts his head at Changkyun. "Okay," he says, not understanding. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Well, Hyungwon and Kihyun need a place to crash for a couple of days…" Changkyun trails off, shrugging in that practised nonchalant way that Hoseok knows means he actually cares more than he's letting on.

"And you want them to crash here," Hoseok replies flatly. He isn't sure he likes the idea of Hyungwon and Changkyun being in close proximity to each other again. Not because he's jealous, of course. He just — it just rankles him. He doesn't want to think about it. "Why can't they stay in a hotel?"

Changkyun shakes his head. "Yeah, of course — I don't want to impose," he says quickly. "I just thought it might be nice to spend some time with them, since I don't see them very much anymore."

_ Right.  _ And now Hoseok feels like the asshole. "No, don't be silly," he says, "of course they can stay here." 

"I shouldn't have asked," Changkyun continues, waving his hands at Hoseok as if to scrub out the idea. "It's such an imposition on you. I can just go stay with them in a hotel for a couple nights...actually, that's a much better plan—" 

_ "No!"  _

Changkyun stops mid-sentence, blinks at Hoseok. 

Hoseok blinks back, then clears his throat. That's the last thing he wants, Changkyun disappearing from his life for a few days to have a sleepover with Hyungwon. Call him needy. Hoseok doesn't care.

"I mean — that makes no sense — we have plenty of space," Hoseok says, clambering over himself to justify whatever he's attempting to say. "It's no imposition at all. Tell your friends they're very welcome to stay with us as long as they need."

Changkyun looks mildly unconvinced, but he nods his head slowly. "Okay," he says, "if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Hoseok replies. He beams brightly and shoots Changkyun a thumbs up. Everything will be fine. What could go wrong?

  
  


* * *

  
  


Everything's gone wrong.

Hoseok stares at Changkyun. "Excuse me,  _ what?" _

It's mere hours before Hyungwon and Kihyun are due to arrive, and Hoseok is suddenly realising just how little he'd thought about the logistics of this whole endeavour. He had forgotten, for example, that the spare bedroom had been converted into a music studio. (By him, in a move that has been becoming increasingly apparent was just a transparent ploy to make the guy he likes happy — but that isn’t the point right now.) 

The point is — Hoseok had forgotten that there aren't quite enough beds in the penthouse for four.

"Hyungwon's too tall for the sofa," Changkyun elaborates, carrying spare bedding out from the linen closet and setting it on the sofa. "And besides, he likes to sleep in — it'll be annoying for everyone if he's in the living room." 

Hoseok opens his mouth, then closes it again. He has no basis upon which to dispute this. But it doesn't mean he has to like it.

"It's fine," Changkyun continues, oblivious to Hoseok's  _ utter misery. _ "Kihyun hyung will be happy on the sofa, and Hyungwon and I can share a bed. It's no big deal. We've done it countless times before."

Something hot and ugly twists in Hoseok's gut.  _ Countless times? _ He pushes it down. "You can't let your guests sleep on the sofa," he cries out. Grasping at straws.

Changkyun gives him a weird look. "They're not  _ really  _ guests," he points out. "It's just Kihyun and Hyungwon."

"Still!" Hoseok picks up the bedding from the sofa, and shoves it back into Changkyun's arms. "It's not  _ hospitable,"  _ he declares, as if he's ever cared about being hospitable.

Changkyun peers out over the pile of blankets and pillows, brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Um," he starts, "I could sleep on the sofa instead? And Kihyun and Hyungwon can share my room. If you insist."

Hoseok clears his throat. Now he just seems like a massive dick. "No," he says quickly. Furrows his brow. "I mean, you're sort of my guest too."

Changkyun puts the bedding back down on the sofa, folds his arms across his chest and regards Hoseok with a look of amusement. "Do you mean to tell me  _ you _ are offering to sleep on the sofa?"

Hoseok sniffs indignantly. "No, of course not," he replies. "I just — you can stay in my room. Just while your friends are here."

This, at the very least, wipes the smug smile clean off Changkyun's face. 

"Yeah," Hoseok barrels on. He hadn't meant for them to end up here at all, but — so be it. The only way out is through. "It's the only sensible solution." 

Changkyun gapes at him.  _ "Is it?" _

Hoseok snatches up the bedding and marches it over to the linen closet to put it away. "Yes," he declares authoritatively. "This way,  _ no one _ has to sleep on the sofa."

Changkyun trots after him. "And  _ where _ in your room will I sleep?"

"We can share my bed," Hoseok continues. He shoves the bedding into the closet and shuts the door firmly. Still not making eye contact with Changkyun. His heart is hammering in his chest. "You said it yourself, it's no big deal."

"You've never even let me go upstairs to where your room is," Changkyun says, refusing to let it go. He can be extremely dogged about things. 

Hoseok spins round to face Changkyun. Schools his face into his best impression of someone who  _ doesn't care _ that he's somehow engineered himself into a situation where he gets to share a bed with his fake husband who also happens to be his  _ very real crush. _

"Yes, well — changed my mind," Hoseok replies. 

Changkyun just looks at him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hyungwon sets his duffel bag down in the corner of Changkyun’s room. The room’s a lot larger, and nicer, than the one Changkyun used to occupy in their old flat. But so much of it is still unmistakably Changkyun, from the heap of black and grey hoodies piled up by the wardrobe, to the assortment of silver jewellery strewn across the top of the dresser.

A picture in a simple wooden frame catches his eye. Hyungwon picks it up, feeling the corners of his lips rising into a smile. It’s him, and Changkyun, and Kihyun — just a silly selfie from when they’d first started living together — but it makes something swell up inside Hyungwon.

“I like that picture of us,” Changkyun says, coming over to stand next to Hyungwon. He smells clean and fresh and so much like  _ home.  _

Hyungwon puts the picture down and curls one arm around Changkyun’s shoulders. “Me too,” he murmurs back.

Across the room, Kihyun is gingerly unpacking his toiletries from his bag and laying them out on the bedside table. He eyes the two of them with a knowing look that Hyungwon ignores. 

“Thanks for letting us stay in your room,” Kihyun says, straightening up. He cocks his head at Changkyun, one eyebrow arched. “Are you going to sleep on the sofa?”

Changkyun tenses up. Hyungwon had assumed that would be the case, but Changkyun is clearing his throat uncomfortable and it becomes apparent that Hyungwon had thought wrong.

“No, I’m — uh, Hoseok hyung offered to let me stay in his room,” Changkyun explains feebly. He isn’t meeting either Hyungwon or Kihyun’s gaze. 

Hyungwon’s hand slips off Changkyun’s shoulder as he turns to look at him. “In his bed?” he asks, slowly. Keeping his voice as level as he can manage.

“Hm,” is all Kihyun says, like he knew this was coming. Maybe he did. Stupid Kihyun. Hyungwon suppresses a scowl.

“It’s fine,” Changkyun says, waving one hand at them dismissively. “We used to do it all the time, right? It’s not a big deal.”

Kihyun raises his eyebrows. “Hm,” he says again. 

Changkyun glances up at Hyungwon. “It’s not a big deal,” he repeats, like he’s asking for confirmation. Or permission. Hyungwon doesn’t want to give either, but Changkyun’s looking at him with confusion scrawled across his features, and once again — as always, when it comes to Changkyun — Hyungwon is helpless.

“No, of course not,” Hyungwon says. He forces a grin, reaches out to ruffle Changkyun’s hair. “Thanks for giving up your bed for us.”

A smile spreads across Changkyun’s face, dimpling his cheeks. And Hyungwon can’t help it, he feels himself smiling back genuinely.

Kihyun, on the other hand, is still squinting at them suspiciously. He looks like he’s on the verge of saying something, when the doorbell rings and cuts him off before he can begin. Changkyun shuffles out of the room to see who it is, and Hyungwon realises with a start that he absolutely does  _ not _ want to be alone with Kihyun right now.

Unluckily for him, Kihyun isn’t going to let him go that easily. His hand shoots out to grab Hyungwon’s wrist as Hyungwon tries to sidle past him and out of the room.

“What?” Hyungwon asks, unable to keep the aggressive lilt out of his voice.

Kihyun ignores it. He just gives Hyungwon a sharp glance. “I don’t like seeing you like this,” he says, and it’s a lot quieter and more gentle than Hyungwon had expected. “You can’t keep on doing this.”

Hyungwon looks away. His chest feels tight. “I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Kihyun releases Hyungwon’s wrist, turns to look at him properly. “You’re not moving forward but you’re also not letting go. And you’re just going to end up hurt.”

Kihyun is right, of course. He always has been. But Hyungwon’s too much of a coward.

(Maybe it’s time to stop.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


Changkyun arrives in the living room to find Hoseok already at the door, letting Minhyuk in with a frown on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Hoseok is asking his cousin, sounding deeply suspicious.

Minhyuk breezes past Hoseok and heads straight towards the kitchen. "I heard that today was the big moving day, thought I'd swing by with food," he says, brandishing two large takeaway bags from a fried chicken chain and setting them down on the counter. He hops up onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. "So, where is everyone?"

Hoseok rolls his eyes. "By everyone, I suppose you mean Kihyun?"

"Maybe," Minhyuk replies, shrugging. His eyes dart over towards the corridor where Changkyun's room is. "Are they here yet?"

As if on cue, Hyungwon comes striding out into the living room, followed by Kihyun. They both look surprised to see Minhyuk. Kihyun also looks mildly annoyed.

"What are you doing here?" Kihyun asks, narrowing his eyes at Minhyuk.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that like I'm some sort of criminal?" Minhyuk gestures at the takeaway bags. "I brought you food!"

Kihyun smirks and folds his arms across his chest. "Are you a delivery boy now?"

Minhyuk raises both his eyebrows. "I could be," he counters, slipping off his seat and walking towards Kihyun. "Would you like that?"

Hoseok coughs loudly and steps between Minhyuk and Kihyun. "Enough of that!" he shouts, and Changkyun has to choke back a laugh at the horrified look on his face. Hoseok glares at Minhyuk. "Keep it in your pants."

Unabashed, Minhyuk just throws Kihyun a wink and plops himself down on the sofa. "Anyway, I'm here now," he says, "let's have some fried chicken, watch a movie."

If nothing else, Changkyun has to be impressed by the lengths to which Minhyuk will go to spend time with the guy he fancies. Even if the guy he fancies is currently standing with his arms crossed, glaring daggers at the back of his head. It's still something.

They end up agreeing on a silly buddy cop film after a full twenty minutes of arguing, and Changkyun, to his great dismay, ends up awkwardly perched between Hoseok and Hyungwon on the sofa. Because of course Minhyuk had insisted Kihyun sit on the loveseat with him. And Kihyun had, to everyone’s surprise, complied with only minimal complaining. Which left Changkyun caught between a rock and a hard place, or perhaps in the middle of some cruel joke the universe is playing on him, a joke to which he doesn't know the punchline.

In any case, one or both of Hoseok and Hyungwon are making Changkyun so nervous he can barely focus on the movie. Hyungwon is perfectly silent, almost unmoving, gaze focused steadily on the TV screen. But Changkyun knows Hyungwon well enough to know that he's not quite  _ here.  _ There's something running through Hyungwon's mind, something taking him far away, and Changkyun has no idea what.

A gentle bump of Hoseok's shoulder against his own breaks Changkyun from his reverie. 

"You okay?" Hoseok asks, his voice a low whisper, slipping under the boisterous noise of the movie. His head is ducked down towards Changkyun, eyes bright even in the dim light. "You seem a little, I don't know. Spacey."

Changkyun shakes his head, smiles tightly. "I'm fine, thanks hyung," he replies. Even though he had been feeling a little sad, for reasons he can't even identify. But he's here, next to Hoseok, and Hoseok is looking at him like he's precious, and it makes something rise up in Changkyun's chest, something full and warm. He wants nothing more than to lean into Hoseok, have Hoseok curl one arm around his shoulders. 

He's going to have to share a bed with Hoseok tonight, he realises. The reality of his situation crashes into him. He knows -- even though he doesn't know how he knows -- that Hoseok would gladly sleep on the sofa, or even the floor, if Changkyun made any indication that he was uncomfortable with sharing a bed. But Changkyun doesn't want that. He wants to be close to Hoseok, wants to go to sleep with Hoseok having been the last thing he'd seen before closing his eyes. Wants to feel the heat radiating off Hoseok's skin, to hear the gentle thumping of his heartbeat, to dream with the rhythm of Hoseok's breathing as a backdrop. 

There is so much that Changkyun  _ wants, _ it frightens him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


By the time the movie ends, it's late and Minhyuk is yawning as he bids them all farewell and goodnight. The four of them tidy up the living room in silence, all the while Changkyun's heart is hammering against his ribcage. 

"Kyun-ah," Hyungwon says, appearing at Changkyun's elbow while he's loading up the dishwasher. Changkyun startles so hard he almost drops a mug. Hyungwon gives him an apologetic look. "Sorry, I just — I wondered if we could talk?"

Changkyun nods distractedly. In the corner of his eye, he sees Hoseok stretching his arms over his head, and heading towards the staircase up to his room. Halfway up the stairs, he pauses, casts a glance back towards Changkyun, before turning back and disappearing into his room. Almost like he's asking a question. And Changkyun doesn't quite know what the question is, but he feels like his answer is  _ yes. _

"Right now?" Changkyun asks, turning back to the dishes. He's doing a terrible, haphazard job of loading the dishwasher -- Kihyun would have a fit, but Kihyun's already gone to bed, so Changkyun doesn't care. "Sorry, I'm just -- tired," he adds, as he shoves the final mug onto the rack and slams the dishwasher close. He looks up at Hyungwon. "Can we talk tomorrow?"

A look of disappointment flashes across Hyungwon's face, but it's gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Sure," he says, smiling fondly, one hand reaching out to smooth down Changkyun's fringe. His fingers linger along Changkyun's earlobe. "Let's talk tomorrow."

Changkyun can't get over the sense that he's missing something, that Hyungwon is speaking between the lines or in a code that Changkyun can't decipher. He hesitates, but Hyungwon is already wishing him goodnight and heading off down the corridor to the bedroom, leaving Changkyun alone in the middle of the living room, feeling suddenly out of place.

He climbs the stairs slowly, hesitates outside Hoseok's bedroom door. Part of him wants to turn around and curl up on the sofa -- but that would suggest he has something to be nervous about. When he doesn't. It's just two friends, who happen to be fake married, sharing a bed, for purely logistical reasons.

Changkyun groans, knocks loudly, and shoves the door open in one swift movement, so he doesn't have any time to second guess himself. Hoseok jumps and whirls round. He's standing in the middle of the room, like he had been — pacing? His hair is sticking up every which way, the way it gets when he gets frustrated and runs his hands through it every two seconds.

"Hey," Changkyun says, the fondness he feels slipping out in his voice. There's something soft, almost delicate, about Hoseok. And right now, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and flannel pyjama pants, he's about as far from his bad boy chaebol image as he can get.

"Hey," replies Hoseok. He clears his throat, rakes his fingers through his hair again. His gaze darts around the room, then lands back on Changkyun, brimming with earnestness. "I, um — you know, if you'd rather I slept on the sofa, I can—"

Changkyun steps forward, one hand on Hoseok's arm, and Hoseok falls silent, staring at Changkyun's hand like he can't quite believe he's there. Laughter threatens to bubble out of Changkyun. Sometimes it feels like he’s the hyung, and Hoseok is the dongsaeng.

“Don’t be weird, hyung,” he says, grinning and giving Hoseok a small shove on the shoulder. Even though his own heart is hammering. He tries to pretend it’s not. “I know I’m super cute and all, but you’ll be okay sharing a bed with me, you know?”

Hoseok's shoulders relax, and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m worried about  _ you,” _ he declares, jutting his lower lip out in a pout. “I’m so handsome, you better not fall in love with me.”

Changkyun laughs, loud and exaggerated, as he heads into the en suite to get ready for bed. “As if!” he calls out over his shoulder. Even though the little voice in his head is screaming at him,  _ too late! Too fucking late! _

He takes his time brushing his teeth and getting changed for bed. Outside the bathroom, he can hear Hoseok shuffling about. When he hears the click of Hoseok flipping the lights and switching to his bedside lamp, Changkyun finally steels himself, slaps himself twice on the face, and steps back into the bedroom.

Hoseok is lying in bed, covers pulled up to his chin, wearing an eye mask with a yellow cartoon bear printed on it. He has it pushed up to his forehead so he can look at Changkyun, and his hair sticks out comically from beneath it.

Changkyun snorts out a laugh. Why had he even worried? He needn't have worried. This is fun, and normal, and surprisingly easy. 

“Nice eye mask,” he teases, crawling into bed.

Any tension that had remained — not that there was much left — dissipates instantly. Hoseok pouts at Changkyun and huffs out, “He helps me sleep.” The fact that Hoseok referred to his eye mask as a  _ he  _ rather than an  _ it  _ does not escape Changkyun’s notice. Affection clenches in his chest. Dangerous. Very dangerous.

"Well,” Changkyun replies, turning onto his side so that he’s looking at Hoseok, “please let him know that he is very cute.” 

Hoseok sticks his tongue out before turning out the light. It takes a minute for Changkyun's eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they do, he sees Hoseok lying on his side as well, looking back at him. The moonlight creeps in through the cracks in the curtains and illuminates Hoseok's skin. Changkyun has a sudden urge to reach up and run a finger over the curve of Hoseok’s cheek, just to see if his skin is as soft as it looks. He feels tipsy, even though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol.

“Changkyun,” Hoseok says, softly, almost a whisper. All the tension that had evaporated settles heavily upon them again, except this time — it’s different. It’s not so much awkwardness as it is — something else. Something more like  _ anticipation,  _ like the moment at the top of a rollercoaster when you’re just waiting to fall.

“Hoseokie hyung,” Changkyun says back, the words slipping past his lips without him even realising he’s speaking. His heart is beating so hard and so fast he wonders if Hoseok can hear it.

A beat passes, and then Hoseok’s blinking. Changkyun looks away. This is too much, he thinks. Too close, too easy to pretend, too dangerous. He closes his eyes.

In the quiet dark, he hears Hoseok murmur, “goodnight, Changkyunnie,” like a prayer. And then there’s a little movement, before Changkyun feels Hoseok pressing a tiny, chaste kiss against his forehead. His heart leaps into his throat. He can feel Hoseok frozen in place, watching him. Waiting.

Changkyun doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t trust what he might do if he met Hoseok’s gaze now. So he just keeps his eyes shut, curls a little into Hoseok, and whispers back, “Goodnight, hyung.”

A string snaps. Changkyun’s heart flips. The rollercoaster falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [#blacklivesmatter](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)
> 
> gotta love a good tropey bed sharing scene huh ;)
> 
> I've been getting into the writing habit again and am v pleased to say that I only have 3.5 chapters left to write!! I'm hoping to finish writing soon and keep updating weekly from now on :) thank you everyone for being so patient while I struggled with writer's block for the last few months. I hope you all continue to enjoy~ pls comment to let me know what you thought or come to talk to me on my socials!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


	12. The Kiss

Soft morning light filters in through the crack in the curtains as Changkyun feels himself slip gradually into consciousness. He yawns lazily, despite feeling more well-rested than he has in weeks, and stretches his arms out over his head. If he had a choice, he’d never get out of bed.

Then the sound of a door opening startles him, and Changkyun’s eyes fly open.

“Oh, sorry,” Hoseok says, standing by the door to the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him, gently. “Did I wake you?”

Changkyun had forgotten all about the fact that he was in Hoseok’s bed. He pushes himself to sitting, tries to look as proper and polite as he can manage while sitting in bed in his pyjamas. “No, I was already sort of awake,” he mumbles, flattening down the back of his hair. Hoseok is dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark grey slacks. Changkyun feels even more woefully underdressed.

He climbs out of bed and goes to grab his hoodie from the chair where he’d left it. “You don’t usually go to work this early,” he says. He’s not even sure that Hoseok goes into the Shin Enterprises offices at all, except when forced to by his grandmother.

“I have an early meeting,” Hoseok says. He takes a step towards Changkyun, then seems to think better of it, and ends up hovering awkwardly in no man’s land. “We’re thinking of acquiring a new company in the AI tech sector and the investment advisers are giving a presentation.”

Changkyun smiles, pride welling up in him. “Sounds fancy,” he murmurs, hands shoved into his pockets. He can feel his cheeks heating up, and ducks his head to hide it, darting out the door to escape the mounting tension. “Are you gonna have breakfast?”

He hears Hoseok trotting down the stairs behind him. “I can’t,” Hoseok murmurs, and when Changkyun glances back he sees Hoseok looking genuinely apologetic as he shrugs his coat on. “I’m going to be late — but, uh — maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah, okay,” Changkyun replies. He leans against the back of the sofa, watches as Hoseok grabs his keys and wallet from the side table by the front door. “Have a good day.”

Hoseok pauses, one hand on the door handle. Turns around to look at Changkyun. An odd sort of tension crackles between them. Changkyun feels giddy with something he can’t quite name. Hoseok takes a hesitant step towards him. And then he reaches out, like he’s maybe going to put his hand on Changkyun’s shoulder, or touch his cheek, or  _ something _ — and Changkyun can feel his heart about to hammer right out of his chest.

Hoseok coughs, brings his hand up to Changkyun’s head and gives two firm pats on the head. “I, um — I’ll see you later,” he declares, looking away, and then he’s spinning on his heel and striding out the door without another look back. Changkyun exhales the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“That was cute.”

Changkyun jumps, whirls round. Kihyun is standing at the corner where the corridor turns off towards Changkyun’s room, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He has that  _ Kihyun _ look on his face, the one where his eyebrow is quirked and his lips are pursed and he’s obviously got something to say but refuses to say it.

“Shut up,” Changkyun mutters. 

Kihyun is already dressed for work, and that’s probably the only thing that saves Changkyun from a full interrogation. But he does narrow his eyes as he walks past, looking deeply disapproving about something. And he still doesn’t say anything.

“How long have you been standing there?” Changkyun asks grumpily. “And don’t say,  _ long enough.” _

A small quirk of his lips. “Wasn’t going to,” Kihyun replies. “And anyway — I didn’t see anything that I didn’t already know.”

Changkyun pouts at Kihyun.  _ “Hyung,” _ he whines. “What are you talking about?”

“I have to go to work,” says Kihyun flatly. “Just — be careful, okay? With your feelings, but also with everyone else’s.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Kihyun shrugs. He pulls his shoes on, zips up his coat. “You know what it means,” he says. Changkyun can tell he’s not going to get a straight answer, not this morning at least. He tries his best at an accusatory glare, but Kihyun just ignores him, and gestures with his chin towards the bedrooms. “Hyungwon’s still asleep — wake him up before midday, will you? He doesn’t have a shoot today and he’ll stay in bed all day if you let him.”

Changkyun makes a face to indicate that he’s not happy with Kihyun’s evasiveness, but nods anyway. “Okay, fine,” he concedes, “but we’re talking about whatever you’re talking about when you get home.”

“If you say so,” Kihyun replies, coy and cryptic as ever, and then he’s gone. The door clicks shut and Changkyun is left alone in the roaring silence of his own thoughts.

He waits for about an hour, tinkering in his studio, and finally boredom overtakes him. He knocks on his bedroom door, pressing one ear to it to check if Hyungwon is awake. Nothing. He knocks a little harder. 

When there’s still no response, he turns the handle and pokes his head in. Hyungwon is a lump beneath the covers, completely hidden from view save for a messy tuft of hair poking out from one corner.

“Hyungwonnie hyung,” Changkyun calls out, chuckling to himself as he shuts the door behind him and creeps into the room. “Kihyun hyung told me to wake you up.”

A groan emits from the lump on the bed, something that sounds like,  _ “Kihyun can fuck off.” _

Changkyun giggles, leaps onto the bed. “Hyung,” he whines, “I’m bored. Get up.”

Hyungwon shifts, tugs the covers down an inch and cracks an eye. “I’m sleeping,” he says in a deadpan voice.

“No you’re not,” Changkyun replies. He pokes Hyungwon in the cheek. “Come on, you’re gonna end up skipping breakfast again and that’s bad for you.”

“A lack of sleep is bad for me,” Hyungwon grumbles, stretching his arms over his head.

Changkyun snorts out a laugh. “I promise you, you are  _ not  _ suffering from a lack of sleep.”

Hyungwon just makes a disgruntled sort of noise. “Five minutes,” he mumbles, and it’s so soft and endearing that Changkyun can’t bring himself to protest. He wriggles in under the covers, because it’s warm and comfortable, but then Hyungwon turns into him, and his face is pressed into the side of Changkyun’s neck, and Changkyun feels his heart skip a beat.

“Ah, hyung,” he says softly, not daring to move. They do this all the time — or at least, they used to, back when they lived together. But now, suddenly, it feels — like something is off.

“Changkyunnie,” Hyungwon mumbles back, and Changkyun can feel his lips moving against the skin along the side of his neck, can feel the warm puff of his breath. “Just five minutes.”

Time both speeds up and freezes at the same time. Changkyun doesn’t know how long passes before Hyungwon sighs, and pulls away from him. Ever so slightly, but it feels like a gaping abyss between them. Changkyun turns to face Hyungwon.

“Can I tell you something?”

Changkyun blinks at Hyungwon. Part of him isn’t even sure Hyungwon had spoken, but he sees the expectant look in Hyungwon’s eyes, and all of a sudden, he  _ knows. _ He knows what’s about to happen, and he’s not  _ scared, _ but he’s a little — nervous.

He nods. Hyungwon reaches up, brushes Changkyun’s fringe out of his face. It’s not like they’ve not been here before — they’ve been here far too many times — but this time feels different.

“I like you,” Hyungwon says. Just like that. The truth that both of them have always known, but never spoken.  _ I like you. _ Changkyun’s pretty sure he stops breathing. He holds his breath and stares, just stares, at Hyungwon — beautiful, ethereal Hyungwon, with his glowing skin and bright eyes and those perfect, pink lips —

“I like you too,” Changkyun replies, and it’s true, the truest thing that Changkyun has ever held in his heart, and yet, it feels like a lie.

Hyungwon looks sad. “I want to kiss you,” he says. Changkyun doesn’t know why he looks sad. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Changkyun breathes, helpless and suddenly afraid. 

But still Hyungwon hesitates. “Do you  _ want  _ me to?”

A pause. Changkyun considers the question. Without warning, Hoseok pops into his mind, eyes crinkling as he smiles, cheeks round with mirth. His heart shoots into his throat. Not right now. 

“Yes,” Changkyun says, blinking the image of Hoseok away, focusing back on Hyungwon. He’d always had tunnel vision for Hyungwon. This is what he’s always wanted. “Yes, yes — hyung—”

When Hyungwon tips his head forward, presses his lips against Changkyun’s, the world melts away. It’s gentle, almost apprehensive, but Changkyun can feel Hyungwon holding back. Can feel the tension in both of their muscles, as they lean into the kiss while trying not to move too fast. He brings his hand up to cup Hyungwon’s chin.

And then Hoseok pops into his mind’s eye again. He looks sad,  _ hurt. _ Changkyun squeezes his eyes more tightly shut, tries to focus on kissing Hyungwon, on how warm and soft Hyungwon feels against him — but still the image of Hoseok remains, just staring at Changkyun, looking like a kicked puppy.

Changkyun pulls away. What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with him? This is everything he’s always wanted. And yet —

“I know,” Hyungwon says, before Changkyun can form any words. He rests his hand on Changkyun’s cheek, thumbs against his skin. “We’re idiots, aren’t we?”

Changkyun’s chest feels tight. “I don’t know why I feel...guilty,” he mumbles, and it feels like his entire being is aching with the pain of wanting something but not knowing what that something is. “I’m so sorry—”

“Yah,” Hyungwon murmurs, a slight hint of playfulness creeping into his tone. “Don’t be sorry.” He taps one long finger against the tip of Changkyun’s nose. “It’s not your fault.”

Changkyun loves Hyungwon, so much. More than he loves anyone in the world. But maybe — he loves him differently than he used to.

He wraps his arms around Hyungwon’s waist, buries his face in his chest. “I’m a dumbass,” he mumbles into Hyungwon’s shirt, fully meaning it. “I’ve always had such a massive, stupid crush on you.”

Hyungwon laughs, the sound bright but somehow tinged with wistfulness. “I know,” he says, “me too.”

There’s something lighter about the air between them now. Changkyun groans, presses his face more insistently into Hyungwon’s chest. “This is so  _ embarrassing,” _ he wails, though his voice is muffled.

“Excuse me,” Hyungwon replies, a faux sharpness to his voice as he pulls away slightly to look at Changkyun, “embarrassing? If anything it’s embarrassing for  _ me! _ I’ve just been rejected by my best friend!”

Changkyun grimaces. “Hyung, please,” he grumbles, “let’s never talk about this again.”

Hyungwon smiles, and drags Changkyun in for a hug. “Nonsense,” he says, “I’m complaining to Ki the second he gets home. Maybe he’ll side with me for  _ once _ in our lives.”

Changkyun lets himself relax into Hyungwon’s arms. This is easier than it has any right to be. 

When Hyungwon shifts, murmurs that they should get up, Changkyun shakes his head and tightens his grip around Hyungwon. “Five more minutes,” he whispers. “Let’s just stay here — for five more minutes.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hoseok can tell that something is  _ off _ with Changkyun. He hates that he’s so in tune with Changkyun’s moods, but when he gets home and Changkyun is sitting on the sofa with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring into space, it becomes immediately obvious that something is on his mind. Hoseok doesn’t ask, though, and Changkyun doesn’t volunteer any information.

It’s Hyungwon and Kihyun’s last night staying with them, and Hoseok would have expected the three ex-roommates to stay up late together and make the most of the time they had with each other. Instead, he doesn’t see Hyungwon and Kihyun at all — they’ve been in the bedroom the entire time, and Changkyun doesn’t even seem bothered about going to hang out with them. When Hoseok asks, Changkyun just shrugs and says that Hyungwon has  _ “something to talk to Ki about”. _

All very cryptic, but Hoseok just brushes it off. Something’s going on and it doesn’t feel like it’s his place to pry. It’s only as he’s brushing his teeth, and Changkyun is sitting on his bed just as silent and still as ever, that he finds out what’s going on.

“So Jooheon’s birthday is coming up, and he’s not sure he wants to have a big party,” Hoseok mumbles around his toothbrush — trying to make ordinary conversation even if Changkyun’s energy is weirding him out, “but he said he might have a small dinner with friends, and if you’d like to come you’re welcome to.” He rinses the toothbrush off, and spits.

When he steps out of the bathroom, Changkyun is still sitting on the bed, giving no indication of having heard him.

“Changkyun-ah,” Hoseok says. He waves one hand in front of Changkyun’s face. “Did you hear what I said?”

Changkyun blinks, glances up at Hoseok like he’d just noticed him standing there. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “what were you saying?”

Hoseok furrows his brow and sits down next to Changkyun. “Nothing, not important,” he replies, “you okay?”

A shrug. “Yeah, fine,” he mumbles, not sounding like it at all. “Let’s just go to bed.”

Hoseok clears his throat. That reminds him — he’s been thinking about this all day, and it’s now or never. His heart pounds against his ribs. 

“You know,” he starts, as breezily as he can manage, “I know your friends are going home tomorrow, but — if you wanted — only if you wanted, of course — you could stay. Here. With me.” He waves one hand dismissively as he glances round the room, half-shrugging, pretty sure it comes off as awkward instead of nonchalant. He sneaks a peek at Changkyun.

Changkyun is staring at him, a confusing mix of emotions scrawled across his face. “Hoseok hyung,” he says, and that does  _ not  _ sound good.

“Never mind!” Hoseok exclaims quickly, panic setting in. This was a bad idea,  _ abort, abort, abort!  _ “If you don’t want to, just pretend—”

Changkyun shakes his head, no. “I  _ do  _ want to,” he says, forcefully, “thank you for asking.”

Hoseok’s panic settles, but only slightly. Changkyun still looks tormented. 

“But—?” Hoseok prompts, not sure he wants to know the answer.

Changkyun presses his lips together, tongue darting out to moisten them. His eyes dart around, focusing on the wall behind Hoseok. When he finally does make eye contact, he looks nervous.

“Hoseok hyung,” he says, voice small but firm, “I have to tell you something.”

Something plummets in Hoseok’s gut. That can’t be a good thing. Nothing good has ever followed  _ “I have to tell you something”. _ He nods slowly, motioning for Changkyun to continue.

“Hyungwon and I,” Changkyun says, and oh  _ god _ Hoseok doesn’t know where this is going but he already knows it’s going to hurt, “earlier today — we kissed.”

The silence that follows roars like a thundering wave, crashing over Hoseok and filling his veins with ice. He feels like he’s been submerged, incapable of taking a breath. His chest aches, pressing down on him, until his lungs are about to give out.

“Hyung,” Changkyun is saying, and his voice sounds far away, “Hyung, I’m sorry—”

Changkyun reaches out for him, and Hoseok stands up abruptly. He can’t look at Changkyun, can’t look anywhere, the lights feel too bright and the air around him too hot.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, and  _ why _ does his voice sound so disembodied? “It’s fine. You can do what you want. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know, but—” Changkyun starts, and Hoseok really, really can’t bear to hear another word.

“Seriously,” Hoseok interrupts, voice straining, “it’s fine.”  _ It does not feel fine. _

Changkyun gets to his feet. “Hyung, it doesn’t mean anything, not anymore—”

Hoseok makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t care,” he snaps, almost shouts. He just needs Changkyun to stop talking. He absolutely cannot hear another word. “Don’t tell me about it, because I don’t fucking care.”

A small frown creases Changkyun’s forehead. “Really?” he asks, wrapping his arms around himself. “Because it seems like you do care.”

Hoseok glares at Changkyun, hurt fading into anger. “Well, I  _ don’t.” _

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Changkyun says, starting to sound defensive, “we said we could—”

_ Yes, we did, but— _

Hoseok can’t bring himself to complete the thought. He balls his hands into fists, just for something physical and real to focus on. “If you don’t think you did anything wrong,” he asks, hotly, “why are you here confessing to me?”

“Because!” Changkyun shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration. “It felt weird not telling you, and I wanted to tell you, because—”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Hoseok cuts in. His voice glints like a knife and he can hear its sharp edge. “I don’t tell you when I sleep with Jimin, or whatever.”

Changkyun’s eyes narrow.  _ “Are _ you still sleeping with Jimin?” he asks, and his voice has gone so suddenly calm and controlled that Hoseok would feel afraid, if he wasn’t so blinded by his own rage.

He sneers at Changyun, lips curling into as disdainful a shape he can manage. “That’s none of your fucking business,” he hisses.

Changkyun scoffs, eyes rolling. “You’ve made that very clear,” he spits back. 

And then he’s storming out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him, and all Hoseok is left with is the same old silence he’d been used to before Changyun had come into his life. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehe i'm so sorry... look we're barely halfway through the fic DID YOU THINK IT WOULD BE THAT EASY?? :P come scream at me in the comments or at my socials!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/notionxally) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notionxally)


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